


coming home

by reginadoesntdorum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-02-05 02:55:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 77,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1802749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reginadoesntdorum/pseuds/reginadoesntdorum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire town believes Regina cast this new curse, the curse where they’ve forgotten everything that happened in the Enchanted Forest, and to top it all off –– she’s pregnant with no memory of who the father could be. She has absolutely no idea how to fix any of the problems that have arisen, that is, until Emma and Henry unexpectedly show up at her door unannounced, with no memory of who she is or why she knows Henry’s name.</p><p>[A rewrite of s3b—Emma and Henry find themselves back in Storybrooke with no memory of their time there. Zelena has plans to ruin Regina's life, chaos ensues. This fic completely disregards Hook's and Hood's existence.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first full-length fic for ouat I have ever written and/or posted. Thus, any grammatical errors are all my own since I don't have a beta. Please feel free to leave a comment if you find any kind of mistake and I will fix it as soon as possible. 
> 
> All you really need to know in preface of this fic is that this story begins around a year or so after 3x11 and is a rewrite of S3B. Feedback is welcomed and appreciated.
> 
> Warning: mentions of non-graphic, non-descriptive language pertaining to abortion in this chapter. Please do not read if you think this may trigger you.

No one comes to see Regina for so long that she eventually forgets what human interaction is like.

Each day comes and goes in a blur of boredom, of a mirage of familiar faces, yet she rarely leaves the house, nor does she speak much to anyone. Her own voice has become too foreign to find solace from it, the vibrations make her uneasy, irritating her to the extent that her hands begin to shake in an attempt to desperately find something to grab onto.

Nobody wants to speak to her, nobody wants to see her; in fact, the consensus around town is that Regina cast a new curse to bring them all back to this place she had once called her Happy Ending. It had only brought her more pain.

She’s lonely—and yes, she has been lonely before. It was Regina versus the entire Kingdom, but in that time, she had never experienced the comfort and love of her own child. She had never experienced a child being torn away from her in a matter of seconds.

Fortunately, there’s paperwork for miles, so she buries herself into it and continues to pretend this town needs a good douse of mayor-ing. Regina approves permits, schedules council meetings—of which no one turns up to—and occasionally finds herself surfing the internet for non-stop flights from Maine to New York.

The threats of memory loss, death or something even worse drives her to push away the constant impulse of searching for Henry and Emma. The town line and its never-ending consequences is something she is worried about, something that reminds her every day that she can’t just get up and leave. She can’t get out of this town, this town where everyone believes the worst in her, where the only two people she every really cared about had gone in an instant.

In a little over one hour, she could be in the city they’re in.

The possibility of being reunited with Henry stews in her stomach, turning and churning and eating her from the inside out. It even brings thoughts of driving 80mph over the town-line, just to forget the separation they had to endure. But that’s too easy. There’s still a little voice in the back of her head that tells her Emma will return with Henry, hand in hand, smiles on their faces as they say, “it’s all over.”

There are two things she is certain about at the moment: one is that she did not cast this new curse. She doesn’t know who did it, nor does she have an inkling of _who_ _else_ could want revenge against someone in this town. Two is that they all returned lacking the company of three people: Emma, Henry and Rumplestiltskin. 

 

… 

 

A few weeks after the curse, all is still quiet.

Snow and Charming inform her of their plans to “search for the culprit,” although she’s quite certain one half of the Un-Charmings still believe she is to blame.

She doesn’t hear from them for a while after that.

Save from Red’s, “what can I get you, Mad—Reg—Your Majesty…?” while ordering breakfast at Granny’s, she doesn’t converse with anyone else. Most of the people scatter in an attempt to avoid Regina’s ‘wrath,’ a wrath that most of the town has not seen in a while. Leroy drinks too much and slurs out a few insults, Granny complains about losing customers, both of which Ruby apologises for profusely but smiles and offers her a free coffee in compensation. All but one continue to place her into a box labelled as ‘evil’ and a ‘murderer,’ but conveniently forget all the times in the past year she was responsible for saving their lives.

“The usual?”

Regina has a routine. She nods, forces a small smile and stares at her cell phone aimlessly until her food arrives. It’s this very moment that she realises she has nobody to contact; there aren’t even any emails in her inbox that she can skim through. She wishes she had just bought a coffee to go, and promptly left before anyone could complain about her presence. She pretends this is for the best, that she’s happier without all the nonsensical chitchat from the inhabitants of this town, but it isn’t.

There’s a difference between being lonely and being alone, and right now, Regina is both.

So, she writes fake texts. She conjures up scenarios in her head of how things would play out if Emma and Henry returned to town. She scrolls through her contacts, hesitating on one name. Regina has called the number so many times before that she is able to mimic the generic “this phone is not in service,” from Emma’s previous operator. It seemed safer than calling their home phone (which Regina has already done—several times). She used to call every day, but now she hardly calls at all.

 

…

 

“Hello?”

There’s a long pause, before Regina remembers how to speak and mumbles an, “Emma?”

“Yeah,” she clears her throat. “That’s me.”

“This is Ms. Rutherford again, Henry’s teacher,” she bites at her lip and taps her fingers on the table. She’s perched on the end of a chair at her dining table. “I was wondering whether I could speak to Henry about a project, seeing as he is such a special boy, I think it would be—“

“—No. Here’s the thing,” the blonde takes a deep breath. Regina can hear her standing up. “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you aren’t Henry’s teacher. So, who are you? How do you know my name, my son’s name, my son’s teacher’s name? Who the fuck _are_ you? I have your phone number, sister, I’ll find where you live and fuck you up if you try _anything_ else. Do you hear me?”

Regina just wants to hang up. “Ms. Swan, I—I don’t… I’m terribly sorry for imposing. I’ll go. Goodbye.”

“What do you want? Who are you?”

“Nothing. No one,” she lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she’s holding. “I’m no one. I won’t bother you again.”

 

…

 

For a couple of weeks after the incident, Regina hopes Emma will trace her cell, turn up in Storybrooke and finds her— _or_ bumps into someone else for that matter, anyone else. She just wishes Emma and Henry were here with her, so she doesn’t have to suffer—but she does, because villains don’t get happy endings, only heroes do, and she most definitely is not—and will never be—a hero.

It hasn’t stopped raining in Storybrooke for almost a week. It hasn’t been good for business. The roads flood, and no one can get anywhere unless they have waterproof boots and jackets. 

Of course, when anything like this happens, people complain. 

Regina has to order people to go sort out a problem that would inevitably happen again, and she’s surprised that the workers are surprised she is even still in town. They thought she had managed to escape, cross the border and left them without as much as a “goodbye.”

Braving the weather, Regina ignores the looks she gets tiptoeing out of her Mercedes to the pharmacy. She averts her eyes from any customers in the store, and carefully loads ten pregnancy tests into her basket. She quickly makes a beeline for the cashier, noticing people have begun whispering, and saying the word “mayor,” too many times to be a coincidence. A tight smile spreads across her face as she pays for her items and immediately leaves.

The weather appears to be getting worse. She can’t help but think of when Henry was younger, afraid of storms such as this one. A genuine, sad smile spreads across her face, reminiscing of earlier times when he barged into her room unannounced, pretending to be making sure _she_ wasn’t the one that was scared. He used to curl up in bed with her on days like this. She wasn’t the Evil Queen to him back then, she was just his mother, his _only_ mother—she supposes she’ll never experience that pleasure again.

(Unless she’s pregnant. But she _isn’t_. It’s impossible. She just has a cold—because of the weather, yes, that’s it. A cold. The tests are just a precaution.)

She stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, pushes her hair back and nods, “you are not pregnant, you will not be pregnant.” 

She does it. She pees once, twice, three times on separate tests.

And she waits, because that’s all she can do.

She paces. Up and down the bathroom. The only thing that comes into her mind is the ways she could possibly be pregnant. Maybe she had fallen in love in the Enchanted Forest—but she wouldn’t have allowed herself to be so… _stupid_. Henry is the only child she wants.

She glances over to the test. Two lines.

She’s pregnant.

Her hand drops to her stomach. It seems to be firmer, bigger, than three minutes ago. She doesn’t believe it. So she takes another, and another, and another until all ten tests are taken and all say she’s pregnant. She doesn’t understand. She could never fall pregnant for Leopold, she wasn’t ever able to give him a male heir—another reason why he ignored her most of the time, which in turn, gave her another reason to have him killed. 

She slides down, sitting on the floor, covers her face and begins to cry. The tests surround her like a moat to a castle, stopping people from entering and her from leaving. She’s trapped. Her knees draw up to her chest, her arms wrap around her calves and she’s shaking. Her nails dig into her legs, leaving crimson, crescent-shaped marks, of which she doesn’t care about; it’s actually feels good to feel something, another, even if it is pain. Pain is the best medicine, pain is the only medicine she deserves, and pain is what she wants.

 

            _Kill it._

 

She crawls over to the toilet, grabbing onto the bowl and empties her entire stomach. She’s hot, flushed, and shaking so much she barely has the strength to kneel.

“I—” she splutters and gasps for air, rocking back and forth. She’s so upset, not even bothered about how unsanitary it is to have the tests sitting on the bathroom floor, or even that she’s sitting on the floor. She doesn’t even think about making a mental note to wash it later, she doesn’t care, she can’t care, she has more important things to worry about now.

There’s a loud bang as she clambers up to fill her hands with water, sipping from them as if they’re a cup—she’s parched, her mouth feels as dry as the Sahara desert, and she feels sick, and she’s sick and she’s scared, she’s never felt like this before, not for a long, long time. Grabbing the towel, she dries her hands, her face and doesn’t bother to look in the mirror; she knows it’ll only make her worse. She knows she looks awful, dishevelled—her hair is probably all over the place, her make-up is probably smudged all over, and she cares, but she also doesn’t care. She has so many thoughts running through her head at this moment in time: Henry, the baby, Emma, Snow, Daniel… and that’s how she knows she’s going crazy, she can’t picture Henry, or Emma, or Daniel.

She can’t see them in her head, she can’t imagine what they look like, how they speak, how they act anymore.

She’s lost them; she’s lost them all.

They’re gone.

The entire room is spinning beneath her, she’s clutching onto the floor, she can’t see, she can’t breathe; all she does is let out a tiny whimper. She sits there for what seems like an hour, shaking, rocking, sobbing; but it’s only really five minutes. Her hands shake as she reaches over and picks up her cell phone, scrolling through her contact list until she stops on ‘Snow,’ dials the number and waits for her to speak. Regina’s eyes are closed as she listens to Snow’s annoyingly soothing “hello?” and replies with possibly the most emotion Regina’s ever shown Snow post-Daniel.

All that comes out is a croaky, helpless, “I need to talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those asking in the comments or wondering once they've come to the end of the story, Robin Hood is NOT in this fic and will not be in it unless Regina thinks about the man with the lion tattoo — her supposed "soulmate". 
> 
> Just to reiterate, Robin Hood will not feature in this story.


	2. Chapter 2

Regina pulls the phone away from her ear, still hearing the panicked, “Regina, are you okay?” on the other end, but she daren’t reply—she merely _just_ stopped herself from following her desperate plea with “I’m pregnant." So she hangs up; silencing Snow’s voice just enough that it kind of makes her feel a little bit better. At least she still has some control with Snow, not that it’s as much as she used to have, no, but it’s enough.

 

Regina knows Snow is worried, and she also knows that she will be there as quickly as she can, perhaps she would even drop everything to make sure she’s alright. After all, Snow remembers the time they spent together, the time before she was the Evil Queen, the time when she was just a mother, a selfless, caring mother, and Regina knows Snow can’t help but focus on the positive, rather than the negative.

 

The rain is pelting off the roof of the house so hard that Regina can hear it so clearly that it’s almost soothing, she rocks on the floor of the bathroom to its beat. She’s trying to pull herself together, and she does. She turns around, hands reaching out to grasp onto the bathtub, and pulls herself up onto her feet slowly. In a few minutes, the tests have been relocated to the trash and she’s washing the bathroom floor. It’s as if she’s scrubbing away the hurt and desperation of this situation she’s unknowingly put herself into.

 

She hears the doorbell, and she’s knows it has to be Snow—no one else would venture near her house, never mind want to speak to her. Fortunately, Regina remembers to look in the mirror before going downstairs. She looks broken, almost as broken as when Daniel died, almost as broken as when she left Henry, but this situation isn’t as bad as those ones, and suddenly she finds herself trying to focus on the positive—maybe because Ms. Positivity is standing on the other side of her front door. She quickly fixes her make-up, runs a comb through her hair and makes her way down to open the door.

 

She’s met with an unsurprisingly worried Snow, “Regina, are you okay? The call, it just… cut off.”

 

“I’m fine, dear. False alarm,” she says. The corners of her mouth curl into a tight smile. Her eyes are still red, but she’s hoping Snow doesn’t realise, or that she’s too polite to ask.

 

There’s a soft “may I come in?” and it’s at that moment that Regina remembers the last time Snow was standing there, begging for her to kill her, to put her out of her misery. It’s one of the few times Regina has been proud of herself, she had Snow’s heart right there, sitting snugly in the palm of her hand. She had the power to crush it, to kill the person who was responsible for putting her through so much pain… but she didn’t (and couldn’t) do it. She steps aside, allowing Snow to pass by her into the hallway, and watches as she sets her umbrella on the floor. After pushing the front door closed, Regina motions Snow to follow her and heads to the kitchen.

 

“You must be freezing,” she fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove. “Tea?”

 

Snow nods and they make small talk as the water heats up, discussing topics such as the weather, the town, and how everybody is holding up after the new curse. It’s civil, and to Regina’s surprise, it’s actually pleasant. She’s missed talking to someone, missed human interaction. It feels odd, like it’s something she shouldn’t be doing, but she’s comfortable around Snow—they’re comfortable around each other. It’s as if the blood feud they’ve shared for tens of years has quietly fizzled out, leaving only an ounce of trepidation of what may return. But Regina has changed, so has Snow, and Regina’s progress and redemption, especially the things she has done for both Snow and her family, have started to change things.

 

“Apple and cinnamon,” Regina says as she passes over the teacup. “It’s my favourite, and I promise,” she smiles softly, “no sleeping curses this time.” There’s a small laugh, and a sort of undeniable pressure is lifted from the room. They’re able to joke about something terrible Regina did, _twice_ , something that may have not been able to be forgiven if she hadn’t begun to redeem herself. Snow recognises the fact that Regina has really been trying, albeit a few setbacks, she is on track to becoming the mother Henry wanted and needed, even if she would never see him again.

 

There’s a comfortable silence for a little while, both too busy enjoying their tea to speak, but then Snow asks the question Regina is half hoping to hear and half hoping not to hear, “how are things with you, Regina?” When she doesn’t respond because she doesn’t know what to say, Snow continues, “I know we haven’t really been in touch for a while… things have just been so hectic lately, but I should have contacted you. You must miss Henry so much.”

 

Regina nods, “I do.” In other cases, she would have bitten back a remark about how obvious it is that she misses him, that she thinks about him every single day and that Snow probably believes she’s forgotten about him, but she doesn’t. She isn’t looking for an argument, she isn’t looking for conflict, she wants comfort and right now, being with Snow—the person she’s known the longest in this town—is comforting.

 

“How have you been holding up?”

 

Regina’s eyes fall to her drink and her grip begins to tighten on the teacup, she doesn’t know how to answer—tell the truth and hide her emotions like she always has, or lie and continue trying to forget everything? She lifts her head to study Snow. She seems like she cares, she seems as if she could handle what Regina’s feeling, but she’s not so sure she should tell her absolutely everything.

 

She chooses the truth, replying with, “as you’d expect, I suppose."

 

“I miss them too, you know? I feel like I’ve lost a part of me again, only this time it’s harder, because I remember her leaving. You know, that was almost… kind of you in all of that,” Regina looks at her, frowning slightly. She thinks she understands, but she’s not so sure. She listens as Snow continues, “I didn’t remember losing Emma. I would have spent twenty-eight years mourning the loss of her, but I didn’t, because you didn’t make it that way. You made it so she hadn’t existed, so… once she returned and the curse broke, she was there, waiting for me. I didn’t have to wait.”

 

Snow lets out a little sigh, it’s content but there’s also a slight sound of upset in there too, almost portraying the fact that she’s continuing on with life, and not getting stuck in the past. Regina’s always been jealous of Snow, she’s jealous that Snow waltzes through life and will always get her happy ending, no matter what. Henry’s “good always wins” echoes through her head and she sighs inaudibly, she wishes she were good, she tries so hard, but everything is always thrown back in her face. Every single good thing she does, she doesn’t get credit for, but then when she does something bad, it’s as if the whole world is going to implode. That’s the problem with this town, they’re always so quick to judge, too quick to blame the Evil Queen and not think about the good _Regina_ has done over the years for them and for her son.

 

She feels like she deserves it though, she deserves to be judged for what she’s done, but not for the rest of her life. She feels like she’s buried in her shame, unable to dig her way out, of course she’s ashamed for everything she’s ever done, but if she hadn’t done all of that, she wouldn’t have Henry, and she wouldn’t give up that privilege for anything. Henry means the world to her.

 

“Snow… I–I’m pregnant,” she mumbles, embarrassed that she even has to tell her stepdaughter this news at a time and in a situation such as this one. It hurts to say it out loud, it hurts to admit it, but it’s progress—she isn’t denying it.

 

The progress drains away when she hears Snow gulp, or sigh; she’s not sure which one. The nerves running through her body return, and she’s cold, so she folds her arms around herself. She’s trying to protect and brace herself from what is about to entail; she’s scared, she feels like she’s being torn from the person she used to be. There’s no confidence here, no air of self-adoration, no Evil Queen. She’s just Regina, plain Regina—and the baby. 

 

It seems like a full five minutes before Snow replies, and all that follows is a quiet “oh.” Regina’s hit so hard with a wave of guilt that it almost knocks her over. It’s ripping her apart; she’s never felt like this before. She knows she shouldn’t be feeling so guilty, at least, not _this_ guilty, but she is and she can’t help it. This pregnancy is unwanted, as far as she knows, it’s a mistake, and she kind of wants Snow to know that, but on the other hand she doesn’t. Allowing herself to fall in love is a possibility, but falling pregnant is something else entirely. The last however long is gone; it disappeared from their memories since they set foot back in Storybrooke, but that doesn’t change the fact that Regina is aware Snow and Charming had been trying for months, perhaps longer. She knows Snow is just putting on a brave face, trying to be happy for her, fighting to not be rude about the entire situation. Snow’s eyes are filled with betrayal, and Regina’s are filled with sorrow and remorse for what she’s done, all she can do is silently apologise. She is sorry, but she can’t put that into words, she can’t bring herself to apologise for something she doesn’t know why she’s done, or how she allowed it to even happen. She feels as if she’s taken everything from Snow, her life, Emma, ripped away in a vengeful curse… and now the thing Snow has wanted for so long: another baby.

 

“Who… Regina, who’s the father?” Snow’s curiosity is normal, of course Regina had asked herself this question multiple times since she found out, but she doesn’t have an answer. Her head bows slightly, she lifts her fingers to her temple and closes her eyes. She doesn’t know who the father is, she has absolutely no idea where to even start, and there isn’t anybody she would consider sleeping with in this town. Confusion overcomes her, and the emotions are too strong to handle, she’s all over the place, and she’s trying to keep everything in, but she can’t. 

 

Regina cracks.

 

Her entire body convulses into shakes and sobs. She’s absolutely terrified; she doesn’t understand… there’s nothing she can understand about this situation. She feels like she’s going in circles, like she’ll never be able to understand the situation because she doesn’t have her memory, and maybe she’ll never get it back. Maybe this is punishment for all of the lives she’s ruined in the past, all of the pain and hurt she’s inflicted, maybe that’s what this is. Someone has cursed them all so they can take it out on her, so they can break her down to the vulnerable little girl she used to be… but maybe she still is that tortured, little girl she once was.

 

Regina knows she never had the chance to grow up, although she never really had a childhood either. Cora wanted the best for her, but what Cora believed to be the best was not entirely the best for Regina, and Cora didn’t understand that, even if her daughter would constantly tell her. Cora manipulated Regina to the best of her ability, she had a goal, and she would reach that goal if it killed her. Her mother was a strong woman, and sometimes there was no stopping her. Regina didn’t know about most of the things her mother had set in place so that she would be queen: Eva, Snow, Leopold… it’s all a blur now. Everything is a blur and it doesn’t seem to matter, but in some ways, it still does, it still haunts Regina every single day. She, like Emma in Rumplestiltskin’s plan, was a pawn in all of this—Regina’s life was not _her_ life, it was her mother’s. She had no control over anything, and now, at this very moment in time, she doesn’t have control either.

 

Regina feels the warmth as Snow slowly wraps her arms around her, mumbles an “I’m sorry, Regina,” and holds her tightly, just as she did when Snow used to have nightmares. She would hold and comfort the young girl until she felt safe, she would stroke her hair, kiss her head, make her feel at home. The embrace is comforting her in a way she never thought she would experience again, she feels loved, and she feels like someone actually cares.

 

Her hair is sticking to her tears and before she can push it back, Snow does it for her; she pushes it from her face and smiles warmly. Regina realises Snow has tears in her eyes too, but she’s not sure why, whether she’s overwhelmed, whether she’s upset at Regina or for Regina, but she feels like Snow understands somehow.

 

“We’ll fix this,” Snow whispers and Regina can only nod and take her word for it.

 

After a few hours of reassurance, confirmation that she’d fallen pregnant in the Enchanted Forest and another few cups of tea, Snow manages to convince her to visit Dr. Whale to find out whether the child is happy and healthy. That’s the most important thing right now. After that, they would focus on making Regina feel better.

 

Before she takes time to realise where she actually is, Dr. Whale is smothering a cold, sticky jelly on her stomach—she almost quips that he should be doing a better job, but she’s honestly so exhausted, so drained, that she doesn’t say a word. He seems to be aware that she’s so quiet (she’s silently thanking the Gods for Doctor-Patient confidentiality), and he tries to make small talk, but she bites “do your job” before turning away from the ultrasound screen. The weather is not a topic of conversation she’s happy or comfortable having right now. 

 

The screen shows her baby, but she doesn’t want to see it, she just wants confirmation, _more_ confirmation than ten positive pregnancy tests. “It looks like a boy,” he says, and it echoes in her mind: a _boy_ , another boy.

 

After a long pause, she builds up the courage to ask “really?” and watches Whale expectantly for the answer. She’s never sounded and looked so young before, not since Cora had been in town, and Regina realises Whale notices this—she’s the queen again, young, vulnerable, and gullible enough to believe he would bring back her one true love. That’s why a ripple of distrust pulses through her veins, she isn’t sure whether to trust him, as she trusted him before and he betrayed her. But she has no choice, she can see it for herself, the scan’s right there in front of her, her _baby_ is right there in front of her, and it’s a boy. _He’s_ a boy, and he’s _hers_ –– her own flesh and blood, and she can’t help but feel a small tinge of happiness. She’s spent her entire life believing she’s unable to procreate, her mother always told her she was a little too small to even be able to carry a child, and what with her former eating habits, it was practically impossible.

 

But maybe now, it isn’t impossible, Regina’s sure as hell she’s definitely pregnant. She thinks of Henry, how he would feel about this situation, and she’s immediately overcome with guilt. Maybe she felt that happiness because she wishes Henry were in there, instead of the unborn foetus, she wishes she were with him right now, she wishes she were his real mother. This baby would need her perhaps more than Henry ever did, but she can’t help but think that she may not really want it. 

 

She’s whipped out of her reverie when Whale replies with an overly supportive, “yes, Regina. You’re about… three months along, congratulations,” and she can’t do anything but tightly smile, because she has absolutely no idea what or how to feel. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, this chapter is a little bit heavy in information, I think it's the longest chapter so far, but it's meant to reflect how Regina's feeling with all of this new information –– she's a little jumbled, confused, as you would expect. Secondly, I just want to thank you all for the great response I've had to this story. I'm really enjoying writing it and I hope you're all enjoying reading it just as much! Thank you for all the kind comments and kudos.

Once Regina makes her way out of the hospital, avoiding the eyes of anyone who sees her, she immediately feels the need to call Snow to tell her the news. She’s happy, but she’s sad and she’s excited, but she’s terrified, and she really just doesn’t know where to place herself. Her emotions are all over the place, she suspects that this has something to do with hormones, but she doesn’t put too much emphasis on it. After a few rings, Regina is silently begging Snow to answer the phone. She just needs someone to bounce all of these emotions off; all of this news that she’s had today is too much and she has to tell someone she knows can handle it, because it’s so overwhelming. Thankfully, she knows Snow can provide this, because if she were close with anyone else in this town, she probably wouldn’t tell them, she would have to bottle up her emotions inside and let them out when she would be alone. Snow’s the only one she feels comfortable discussing these things with, because she knows Snow won’t judge her. She knows Snow sees her as Regina and not as the Evil Queen, and she knows Snow will support her through anything, because in some way, in some respect, Regina is still her stepmother and Snow is still that ten year old girl who absolutely adored it when Regina braided flowers into her hair.

 

“Hello? Mary Margaret speaking.”

 

Regina pushes away the urge to sigh and make a snide remark, she wishes Snow would just use her real name now, she doesn’t understand why they all revert back to their curse names. She’s Snow White and she always will be, Regina can’t go back to calling her Mary Margaret, when she isn’t Mary Margaret, she’s a hybrid of them both, Regina supposes, but Snow will always be Snow to her.

 

“Hello, Snow.”

 

“Oh! Regina, hi. How’d it go? Did you get a scan? What was it like? Was it okay? You could have called me if you needed me, you know? Tell me all about it.”

 

“Please, stop. Take a moment to breathe. As much as I’ve tried to hurt you in the past, at this very moment, I do not wish for you to faint due to a lack of oxygen,” Regina quips and continues, “it’s apparently a boy.” She’s balancing the cell phone between her ear and her shoulder, desperately trying not to drop it as she chops a few greens into a chiffonade—she’s making a salad to accompany the salmon she’s cooking for dinner. It’s one of her favourite meals to eat, especially in the summer, but since it’s awful and rainy outside, she decides to make it to cheer herself up, as the rain isn’t exactly adept at doing that itself.

 

“A boy? How does he know that?”

 

“I don’t know, I thought it was too early to tell, but I can’t be sure. He was awfully supportive about the entire situation, it made me feel a little queasy; do you think he could have somehow acquired some new technology, because of this curse?”

 

Regina and Snow both know that the only way to find out the sex of your baby before birth in The Enchanted Forest was through a Gypsy’s amulet, of which Snow used to find out Emma was going to be a girl, and through some kind of spell, of which Regina never learned. Rumplestiltskin wasn’t exactly interested in Regina being able to find out the sex of a baby, he was more interested in corrupting her, manipulating her, teaching her everything she needed to cast his curse. Regina had spent her entire life being manipulated, being pushed into things she didn’t exactly want to go through with, she’d had power, but she hadn’t had control of her life in so long.

 

“I suppose so… I’d never thought of that,” Snow says softly. “Yeah, Dr. Whale wouldn’t lie.”

 

Regina realises there’s no way to find out whether he is lying anyway, “you’re so naïve, if he were going to benefit from it, of course he’d lie—everybody lies, Snow.”

 

She hears Snow mumble “he’s sweet” and then Charming’s overly protective voice in the background, clearly wondering whom Snow is talking about. Regina is aware of Mary Margaret’s former relationship with Whale, but she didn’t realise Snow still held onto those feelings even after the curse broke. It’s quite entertaining for Regina, she’d heard Charming’s reaction to the entire situation and found it terribly hilarious. She hears Snow bat off Charming’s questions and continues with “besides, not _everybody_ lies, Regina.”

 

“Everybody lies, believe me.”

 

“Why would he lie, though? What motivation does he have?” There’s a small pause for a moment while the two of them think. “Unless he cast the curse?”

 

“No—he’s a doctor, not a sorcerer. He can’t perform magic, I know this for a fact.”

 

“You do? How?”

 

“It isn’t important,” Snow doesn’t need to know the specifics. “I just do.”

 

“Have you…” she pauses, and in that moment Regina tries to figure out what she might say, but she honestly has no idea. “Have you thought any more of who the father might be?”

 

She replies flatly with a harsh “no,” which is a complete lie, she hasn’t been able to get that out of her head since she found out. She’s been riling through the possible people she would sleep with, but she simply can’t pick out one that she would allow herself to fall in love with, never mind create a baby with. There is nobody in this town she is interested in, or would be interested in _ever_.

 

“I’ve been thinking…” Snow starts, and Regina sighs slightly; she’s done with this discussing this subject. It’s boring her, only because she’s been thinking about it so much, and she doesn’t think Snow realises that there’s no one here that she would sleep with. “About who it could be and Regina, I mean… you’re… what if you found a way to bring back Graham? Emma told me you and h—”

 

“Impossible, no.”

 

“What about one of your soldiers? It could’ve be––”

 

“Not a chance, no. I don’t sleep with the help,” (apart from Daniel).

 

“What about that man who you always used to talk about when I was younger? Jeffers—?”

 

“Oh, Gods no. Absolutely not. Never.”

 

There’s a long silence, which is almost awkward enough to cut the tension of a knife, but then it somehow transforms into a more comfortable silence, a silence that’s only acquired when people have an extremely close relationship. Regina knows they have a close relationship, if what you mean by close is that she’s spent most of her life trying to kill Snow, but then realised that wasn’t how they should settle their differences.

 

Upon first meeting Snow, she loved her, she wanted to protect her, to wrap her up and not let anybody touch or hurt her. Snow was hers, and only hers, and she was her new mother. She was going to protect her from this cruel world, she wouldn’t become like her own mother, she’d be a wonderful mother. But then problems snowballed after Snow told her deepest secret, and then with Leopold loving and wanting his daughter much more than his wife, it was a catastrophe—inevitably, something was going to go wrong. She wrongly chose to blame everything on Snow, Regina realises that now, she may not admit it just yet, but she realises. They’re both listening to the other breathing at the other end of the phone, just enjoying each other’s company. Regina especially appreciates it—she doesn’t feel as alone in all of this when she’s talking to her, and she’s grateful that Snow is able to forget the past and look toward the future.

 

After a while, Snow reassures Regina that she can “call anytime, day or night,” and then they say their goodbyes and hang up. It’s sickening how nice Snow can be sometimes, and how she’s almost never hurtful or spiteful unless she really has to be, but it’s been a while since she’s heard Snow say anything remotely along those lines. Maybe Regina would have been the same if certain circumstances hadn’t occurred to make her the way she is today, but she is who she is, she’s Regina Mills, and she can’t change that.

 

Regina sets her cell down on the island and starts to make a light salad dressing to add to her dinner, until she hears footsteps in her hallway; she’s sure she locked the door earlier. A man with ragged, dirty clothing waltzes in with an unnerving smile on his face. She rolls her eyes at his entrance and immediately turns on her Evil Queen persona. They have history and she refuses to let this man see her as the weak, little girl she feels like she is today.

 

“Jefferson,” she sneers. “What a lovely, _unexpected_ surprise,” she walks around to meet him and smoothens out the crease in his lapel. “I suppose you want something?”

 

“Yes, my hat.”

 

Regina cocks her head slightly, confused; she assumes Jefferson mustn’t know King George destroyed his hat a few years ago. “Ah, your hat.” She paces slightly, lifting a finger to stop him from approaching her further. “Alright, but what do I get in return?”

 

“Haven’t you got enough?”

 

“Mm… no, I don’t. You know how this works, Jefferson,” she says in a singsong tone. Jefferson is the one person she enjoys still playing with, toying with; she likes crushing his dreams and hurting his poor, unfortunate little feelings. It’s just a game. She stops pacing, she’s as close to him as she can physically get, and she leans in even further, her lips moving slowly as she speaks, “and whatever do you need your hat for?”

 

His face darkens slightly, “Grace. I need it for Grace; she’s sick and she… she’s getting worse. Your magic’s wearing off and I can’t fix her without it. I need to take her back there.”

 

“I see. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t have your hat. Nobody does. It burned, a long while ago actually.”

 

“You––”

 

“Ah, ah, ah,” she smirks slightly. “For once, this wasn’t my doing.”

 

“I find that hard to believe,” he growls.

 

“I assure you it isn’t.”

 

“You told me in The Enchanted Forest that you’d help me retrieve it.”

 

“I did? I—” she stops, eyes flickering up to him. Her face softens slightly, it lightens, and she’s immediately filled with hope. “You remember?”

 

“What? Of course I remember, what are you talking about? Is this another one of your games?”

 

“No, no, Jefferson. You remember… before we came back here?”

 

“Yes…?” He looks as if she’s crazy; as if she should be locked up in the asylum she locked Belle in for so many years. It feels like the whole world stops spinning for a moment, he knows, he knows everything and she’s suddenly shaking again but she clenches her fists to hide it.

 

“Do you…” she swallows, “do you know anything about the curse—who cast it, why we’re here?”

 

He shakes his head, “no” and the entire world comes crashing down around her. “I only spoke to you once, besides, even if I did know anything, why would I tell you?”

 

“The information wouldn’t _just_ be for me, Hatter, it could help everyone.”

 

“I don’t want to help everyone.”

 

“You’re _pathetic_.”

 

“Oh, am I? I see you’re playing for the other team now, Your Majesty, no longer the Evil Queen?”

 

“I’m not having this conversation. I need answers, and if you won’t give me them then I’ll _make_ you give me them.”

 

“How would you do that?”

 

With a wave of her hand, she flings him back at the wall and watches as the pain radiates across his face. She opens her hand, elongates her arm and begins to strangle him. Her eyes are dark, her teeth are clenched, and she growls “do you really want to find out?” before tightening the grip her magic has on his neck. She’s taking pleasure in the pain he’s feeling, because she’s in control, and she hasn’t felt this kind of control in so long—it’s a release. She can feel the magic, the dark magic, pulsing through her veins, and she can’t stop. Her grip becomes even tighten again, and he’s choking, he’s spluttering, his face is beetroot red and she’s laughing. Her laugh eerily echoes throughout the quiet house, she’s happy, and she’s happy to hurt someone, she needs to feel anything but confusion and anger is the way she’s going to forget about all of that, for one moment.

 

“Z–– Zele…” she frowns; he’s trying to say something so she loosens the grip. She kind of feels a little sorry for him, he’s so defenceless, it’s kind of sad. He coughs slightly and manages to whisper “Zelena.”

 

“What?”

 

“Your… Y–Your sis… sister…”

 

“I’m an only child,” she bites back. She has no idea what he’s talking about, but he begins to motion to his neck and she rolls her eyes, mumbles a “fine” and stops strangling him. She keeps him pinned to the wall, rendering him immobile, she doesn’t want him running off—he needs to pay if he isn’t going to tell her anything, he’s useless otherwise.

 

He coughs for a while, rubs his scarred neck and finally says, “no. Cora lied to you.”

 

“No, she didn’t.”

 

“She did, Regina. You told me yourself, in The Enchanted Forest. You told me she’s your sister, half–sister, Zelena, The Wicked Witch of The West.”

 

Regina studies him for a moment, “how can I trust you?”

 

“I swear to you, Regina, I swear on Grace’s life.”

 

She nods slightly, “and why do you remember?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“What else did I tell you?”

 

“I— I don’t know… not much. You told me to come find you later, you… had something to do, something important, I don’t remember.”

 

“You _have_ to remember, Jefferson. Dig deeper! I need to know absolutely everything I told you. Grace’s life depends on it, don’t do it for me, or the town, do it for her. Do it for Grace.”

 

He looks at her, and then hangs his head slightly, “only for Grace."

 

She nods, says “thank you” and unpins him from the wall. She’s still wary, she still doesn’t trust him entirely, but she’d be ready in an instant if he tried anything, and if he did, she’d snap his neck.

 

“I asked you to help Grace, she was sick back in our land too, but you said there was a remedy that you could get her, that could cure her. You told me to come back later, you told me to come see you at another time because you had something extremely important to do. I fought for you to help me now, but you told me she’d survive, you did something to make her survive for longer, a spell? But you didn’t make the remedy." He takes a deep breath, fingers still dancing on his neck. "Someone had sent you something… a bottle? A bottle of something, it was small. It had a label on it, it seemed like it was something you would need but you said it was a long–shot. You said you were going to hide it among your things, nothing specific, just that.”

 

A bottle of something that’s among her things, she assumes she means her things in The Enchanted Forest, among her belongings, maybe even her valuables if it was that important. Regina chews on her lip gently and begins to pace, a bottle with a label on it—what the hell could that be? She has absolutely no idea, but she’s going to find out. And if she’s to believe what Jefferson’s saying, she has a half–sister, and Cora lied to her… again. Honestly, she’s not even that surprised, she is, but she’s not surprised that her mother hid so much from her, if it wasn’t in her plan, it didn’t matter… and clearly this _Zelena_ didn’t and doesn’t matter. She doesn't have time to focus on the possibility of having a sister, besides, she doesn't care.

 

Regina just replies with “I see,” she doesn’t have much else to say, and she’s not sure what to say.

 

“You’ll help Grace?”

 

“Yes, but if I find out there’s something you haven’t told me, Jefferson, I won’t—I’ll let her die. Do you understand?”

 

“I’ve told you everything.”

 

“Alright. Now, please let yourself out,” her voice is dripping with sarcasm, “as you clearly have a way of getting in and out of my _locked_ house without my knowledge. You know, I could have you arrested for breaking and entering.”

 

“It’s a lawless town, and you’re not really the Mayor anymore, Your Majesty.”

 

“Goodbye, Jefferson.”

 

As soon as he leaves, Regina makes her way to her vault, she needs to check on a few things there, and she needs to check her belongings. She clearly put this bottle among her things for a reason, among her things that if another curse were cast, it would bring everything (including the bottle) back to Storybrooke. It’s important, and it could help her find out who cast this curse, or it could even help her get back to Henry, or maybe it was something dark… she doesn’t know, but she’s desperately hoping it’s there. She’s not so sure it is, she’s looked through her belongings a thousand times since they’ve been back in Storybrooke, and never come across anything unusual, but maybe she just missed it, she supposes that could be possible.

 

Once she arrives in her vault, she begins to rifle through her things for a while; there are dresses, books, potions, nothing new or different, and she’s wondering if she’s looking in the wrong place. If past Regina knew that this curse was being cast, maybe she was pre–warned by her so–called ‘sister’, she would have made sure this important bottle would have arrived with her anywhere she was sent. But right now, she can’t find anything. She stops looking for a moment and calms herself down, today has been so overwhelming—she’s learned so much, she’s taken on so much information, it’s making her head hurt. She leans against the wall of her vault, looking at some of the things in the alcoves; books, ingredients, her jewellery box, nothing really of interest, but she decides to check the jewellery box anyway.

 

Her hands reach out to grab it and the magic sparkles onto her fingertips, she almost drops the box, worried that it’s cursed, but she quickly realises it isn’t, it’s enchanted, for whatever reason. Slowly, she opens it, slightly afraid something may jump out and scare her, but nothing does. It’s there, sitting in her jewellery box just waiting to be found—a bottle with a label. She assumes it’s the one Jefferson has been talking about. It’s not just a bottle; it’s a potion and its contents are intact. She turns the label over to read the writing scrawled across it.

 

_MEMORY POTION_

_FOR EMMA_

_– NEAL_

 

Neal, he must have given her it in the Enchanted Forest, or found a way to transport it to her. He must think this potion is important, like Emma is important to break this new curse, there's a possibility he knew about it. But Emma isn't going to return to Storybrooke, there's no way for her to get here, no way for her to even know that she's needed here. Regina doesn’t remember enchanting her jewellery box, but that’s most likely because she doesn’t remember anything. If she were to enchant it, she suspects it’s a transporting spell, one which when transported; the contents cannot be accessed by anyone but the enchanter.

 

She takes the potion out of the box and inspects it, opens it and studies the liquid. It looks as if it’s real, as if it’s the real thing, besides Neal wouldn’t send her something that would kill anybody, especially since the label says it’s for Emma. He loves Emma, so there mustn’t be a risk; it’s just a memory potion. Unless Neal didn’t send it and this is all a trick. For some reason, Regina believes it, she believes that it is just a memory potion intended to bring back Emma’s memories, but Emma isn’t around. Emma isn’t in Storybrooke, and she probably would never return, so what is the harm in drinking it herself? She believes there may be a risk, but it’s a risk she’s willing to take to remember everything, especially to find out who the father of her baby is.

 

Regina almost kicks herself when she realises that she has the means to test the potion, she has the ingredients to cast a spell to confirm its usage, and thankfully they’re tucked away safely right there in her vault. She opens her mother’s spell book and rifles through the pages to find the correct one; she gathers the ingredients, crushes, mixes and plucks everything she needs, adds them together, and casts the spell. She takes a small drop of the potion with a pipette, drops it into the liquid and waits for what seems like forever, however it doesn’t feel as long as she waited for the pregnancy tests to be done. She feels like she’s done a lot of waiting these past few weeks, waiting for different things at different times, but there’s one thing she’s been consistently waiting for: Henry and Emma—she’s been waiting for them to return, but it honestly seems like she’ll never see them again, just as she isn't supposed to.

 

There’s a small poof and Regina bends down to look at the potion, if the liquid turns black it confirms that it isn’t a memory potion, but if it turns clear, it means that it is. The liquid’s clear and she almost jumps for joy, she has a way to remember everything, she’s going to finally remember everything. She whispers a small “thank you, Neal” but then falters, she’s not even sure she wants to know anything. She makes her way back to the house, trying to listen to the radio in the car to distract herself, but it doesn’t work. She has mixed feelings about remembering everything, in one way she’ll be able to find out who her baby’s father is, she’ll be able to find out who cast the curse and why they’re here, but on the other hand… everyone will blame her again. She’ll be pinned as the person who cast the curse because she remembers, because she’s the only one that remembers, she would have to keep the knowledge of what happened on the down low. She’d have to do this while trying to figure everything out, it would be harder than she originally thought, and she could really do with Emma’s help in that situation.

 

She decides to do it, she steps into the mansion and she quickly decides that she’s going to drink the potion and live with the consequences of the effects, because she doesn’t know what else to do—there isn’t really anything else to do. The potion can’t hurt her, it can’t hurt the baby, it can only put her in a position of power, a position where she’ll be able to help the town and maybe even get Henry back.

 

Before she can drink it, an unexpected ring of the doorbell interrupts her. She thinks maybe this is a sign that she shouldn’t drink it after all, even though she just magically tested and confirmed it is what Neal’s label says it is. But remembering would have to wait. She slides the potion into her blazer pocket and a frown spreads across her face as she makes her way to the front door; she’s had so many visitors today, perhaps even more than she has had in the last few weeks. Her hand reaches out to the door handle, she pauses for a moment, but then pulls it open to reveal a familiar looking blonde. It's the woman she never thought she'd ever see again, and she's standing on her porch.

 

"Are you Regina Mills?”

 

Regina’s heart begins to pound in her chest, and her breath hitches in her throat, she can’t seem to get any words out.

“Lady, are you listening? Answer my fucking question before I get angry,” Emma demands; stepping close enough to intimidate her, but not completely invading her personal space. Regina realises Emma has no idea who she is and what history they have together, and she has no idea why or how she’s even here. Emma looks pissed, for lack of a better word, and Regina knows that there's nothing worse than a mother's rage. She snaps out of her daydream when Emma continues with “are you, or are you not, Regina Mills?”

 

“Yes, I—” her eyes flicker over to Emma’s yellow Bug, and Regina spots someone in the passenger seat. They’re small and wriggling around, possibly trying to get a better look at whom Emma is talking to—her eyes focus in on them and she’s secretly hoping for one specific person. And it is, it’s him, “Henry?”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

An arm slams in front of her, connecting with the doorframe—it's acting as a barrier so that Regina can’t advance to the car to see Henry. The action is so abrupt that it causes her to jump slightly and lock eyes with Emma, Regina’s hand instinctively lifts to rest on her lower stomach. Emma’s eyes are dark and uninviting, much like the storm that’s raging outside. Unsurprisingly, it still hasn't stopped raining, and Regina wonders how the clouds even have enough moisture to keep on bursting, but that thought is quickly shoved away when Emma steps closer to her, jaw tight and teeth clenched.

 

“How the _hell_ do you know my son’s name? How do you know _my_ name? Who _are_ you? I swear, I am so close to—” Emma jerks forward slightly, and Regina cautiously takes a small step back. The younger woman is towering over her, due to the fact that Regina has no shoes on, she didn’t have time to grab them, and she definitely wasn’t expecting Emma to be standing on the other side of the door, ready to (possibly) kill her.

 

Regina slowly crosses her arms; it’s a habit she picked up when she was younger. Whenever she was feeling vulnerable, she’d cross them over her chest, it made her feel comfortable in situations she couldn’t control. At this very moment, her vulnerability is a factor, but she’s also terribly cold from the blistering winds heading into her warm, heated house. She needs to get them inside, both of them, and quickly, before she freezes to death.

 

Emma’s standing there, looking at her and waiting for an answer. She wishes she could stand her ground with Emma, like she would usually, but she can’t, because this is an entirely different situation than they have ever been in, and Emma doesn’t even know that.

 

She wets her lips, “it’s… well, I’m afraid it’s awfully complicated.”

 

“Complicated? _Complicated?_ Listen, lady, you’re lucky I haven’t reported you to the cops yet. Stalking me, that’s fine, whatever, but stalking my _thirteen-year-old_ son…? That’s one step too far. Who the fuck are you? Why did you pretend to be my son’s teacher for so long, huh? What’s your answer to that?"

 

“Please,” Regina starts, “it would be best if you two come inside. I can explain everything there.”

 

“You called both my house phone and my cell phone over thirty-four times in a _month_ , who the hell does that? Are you insane?”

 

If Regina were to tell her the truth about magic, about The Enchanted Forest, about their stories, Emma would most definitely believe that she were insane, so Regina has to go about this whole situation strategically. She wants to see Henry, to speak to him, to ask him how he’s doing, but she’s not sure whether Emma will bring him inside to a stranger’s house who magically knows everything about them. Regina has to try to get them inside, and then maybe she can slip the memory potion into Emma’s drink, besides, she knows Emma needs it more than she does right now. Finding out the father of her baby can wait, and even though it’s important, it’s not entirely necessary at the moment. Regina still has hope that one day, they’ll remember what happened in The Enchanted Forest, because they’ll find out who did this, who cast this curse, who wants them to forget about it all. So she’s going to have to lie, and be entirely convincing about every single lie she tells as to not set off Emma’s personal lie detector. She can bring Emma’s memories back and then Emma will hopefully be willing to help the town uncover the truth.

 

“What makes you think I trust you?” Emma’s voice is louder, she’s shouting to make sure Regina hears her over the force of the wind and the rain bouncing off the ground. “You could be some crazy, serial killer for all I know. You could have lured us here to kill us. Who are you!?”

 

“I’m not a serial killer,” she says, as images of the hundreds she’s brutally murdered flash through her mind, but they’re nothing but faces in her memories now. She’s made some mistakes, but she’s set on progressing and being a better person, even though those things she did will always haunt her. “Ms. Swan, is it?” When Emma nods once, she continues, “my name is Regina Mills; I’m the Mayor of this town, Storybrooke. I’d be happy to answer all of your questions if you come inside. This weather is just… horrific, and I can hardly hear what you’re saying, so please, come inside and bring your son too. I’ll make us hot chocolate, with cinnamon, if you like it that way of course. It’s something… my son used to appreciate, once upon a time.”

 

Regina smiles very softly, she really needs Emma to trust her, and this is the moment of truth. As soon as she can get them both into the house, she’s halfway there to bringing Emma’s memories back and putting an end to all of this nonsense. She is thinking about giving the memory potion to Henry, she wants so desperately for him to remember her, so she can hug and kiss him and he can tell her all about the year he’s spent in New York, but that simply isn’t practical. If Henry remembers everything, Emma wouldn’t believe him, like she didn’t believe him when he first brought her to Storybrooke—it would cause more problems than solutions. Regina would find another way to bring Henry’s memories back, she would find another way to bring back her son.

 

Emma studies Regina for a moment, clearly deciding on whether to trust what she’s saying or not, but after a few seconds, she glances to her car and motions Henry over. Regina and Emma watch him get out, lock the doors and make his way over with a Gameboy in his hand.

 

“Here’s the thing, if you try anything—”

 

“I won’t.”

 

“ _Anything_ at all, I’ll have you arrested. I can have the cops here in a minute, do you understand?”

 

Regina nods, “I understand, Ms. Swan.” She steps aside for them, “please, come in. I’d appreciate it if you two both left your shoes at the door. With this rain, it’s practically inevitable that they’ll wet my floors.” She smiles warmly again, and Regina has the feeling that Emma may be beginning to trust her, but that thought is whisked away with the wind when Emma guides Henry inside with a protective arm around his shoulders.

 

Regina watches from the side lines, Emma’s telling Henry to take off his shoes and coat, telling him that they’d just be here “for a little while” and that they’d “find a hotel in time for” a television show—Regina assumes—that she’s never heard of. He obeys Emma without a fuss, clearly motivated by the fact that he’s be able to watch television, of which Regina would have only let him indulge in once in a while. She thoroughly believes television rots the brain, and that children are much better off learning, reading, doing physical activity and playing with friends, rather than engaging in an activity that is only usually suitable for one person.

 

Back in The Enchanted Forest, children are encouraged to learn a craft, something that could benefit them in later life; usually horse–riding, bow and arrow work or cooking for girls, and sword–fighting, hunting or shepherding for boys. Regina had heard of instances where the genders roles were reversed, she’d heard of girls learning to sword–fight and boys learning to cook, as long as their parents are okay with it, it’s a possibility for all children. Even though Cora would have disapproved, Regina likes the fact that she could have had the chance to learn to swordfight, to protect herself with a weapon, but of course, _proper_ ladies don’t fight.

 

It didn’t really matter that much to Regina, she was more interested in horse–riding back then, because it made her feel like she was free, even though she really wasn’t. The wind in her hair, the speed of Rocinante’s gallop, they were both something she craved so much after marrying the King. The only time she was permitted to ride again was after Leopold’s death, but even then, she never rode Rocinante again; he was too old, Regina just used to take care of him and allow him to run free on his own. Killing him was one of the hardest things Regina has ever had to do, she’d told herself her was just a horse, just an animal, but he wasn’t—Rocinante was family. He understood her, he listened to her when she was happy, when she was sad, when she was confused; he helped her work out what to do in tough situations, and she was and still is entirely grateful of that.

 

In this land, such things aren’t usually so readily available. Regina has learned that children in this land aren’t allowed to be themselves, to run free, to do things that children in The Enchanted Forest can do. Parents are too worried that their children will hurt themselves, so they decide to not let them engage in any dangerous activities whatsoever. In her opinion, she thinks it’s an abomination, children should be able to be children, and that’s why when Henry was younger, she allowed him to do whatever activities his heart desired. If there was an activity he wanted to try and it wasn’t available in her town, she would find a way to bring it in, she wanted him to be happy—she still does. She wishes she’d taken the chance to teach Henry how to ride, but she’s always been scared that it would remind her of her past, of her dark past, and she would disappoint Henry. She supposes there’s still time to teach him, if he ever remembers her, but she suspects the chances of a thirteen-year-old boy wanting to learn hot to horse ride from his mother is slim to none.

 

“Hello, Henry. I’m… I’m Regina, it’s lovely to meet you.”

 

“Hey,” he limply shakes her hand and looks to Emma expectantly.

 

Regina’s eyes flicker down to the hand he shakes, and she blinks away the tears already forming in her eyes. His voice is lower and he looks so much older than he did when she last saw him; he’s taller, his hair is longer (it really needs to be cut) and he’s just… different.

 

This time without him has really hit her hard, hard enough to make her not want any contact with the outside world; she has to force herself to leave the house every day, she has to force herself to remember to eat, she can’t function without him and it seems like right now, nothing is going to change that. It hurts more because he’s standing right in front of her, meeting her, meeting the Mayor, and it dawns on her that she’s absolutely nothing else to him, she’s a random face in his world—she means nothing to him. Those ten years of mother and son bonding, the good and the bad times, may as well have not even happened, he doesn’t remember them and she doesn’t deserve to have them. She doesn’t deserve him, she’s done so many bad, _evil_ , things in her lifetime that cannot be forgiven, and this is her punishment.

 

She was so tempted, when creating Henry and Emma’s new lives, to input herself somewhere. She thought maybe an old school teacher would suffice, or an old friend of Emma’s, just so that they would remember her in one way or another. She didn’t have to be important, she didn’t have to be central to their lives—she just wanted to be remembered. But she didn’t do that; she didn’t believe it was fair to them, or to herself. Creating memories for one person was tricky enough, but for two people, it was exhausting; so, for ease, Regina used a lot of memories from the ten years of raising him. She changed the location, the activities, herself to the suitable alternatives; she replaced herself with Emma, and that was one of the hardest things she has ever had to do. She erased herself from Henry’s life and replaced her with the woman who came into their lives, and concluded that Henry was her son.

 

In replacing herself with Emma, Regina saw the chance to make sure Henry had a healthy life. She inputted a few of her own recipes into Emma’s memories, so that they wouldn’t be living off toast, Kraft mac and cheese and Pop-Tarts for the rest of Henry’s teenage years. It was really for Henry’s wellbeing, but it was also to put Regina’s mind at rest when she returned to The Enchanted Forest, she needed to have confirmation that Emma and Henry were going to be okay, and that was one of the things she could control. Another thing she controlled was Emma’s wardrobe, which she understood was completely unnecessary, but believed that a mother couldn’t walk around New York in a tank top, jeans, and boots every single day. So, Regina made sure Emma had a variety of clothes in this new life, including dresses and skirts, of which she’d never seen Emma in… until now.

 

Emma is wearing a skirt today, and donning her red, leather jacket, of which Regina refused to get rid of. She’s secretly fond of it, though she would never admit it, but she believes it gives Emma character. At least she doesn’t look like a woman who chooses her outfit from a pile of dirty clothes on the floor each morning anymore.

 

“Uh, hello?”

 

Regina snaps out of her reverie, smiles again and closes the front door, “sorry.” She quickly checks both of them have taken their shoes off, not failing to notice that Henry’s are in the exact same place they always used to be (she supposes it must be muscle memory, or something along those lines). She hangs up their coats and motions them to follow her into the kitchen.

 

“I assume you’ve been driving for a long time?” Regina fills the kettle with water and sets it on the stove.

 

“Yeah, it uh… it’s not that bad. We drove from New York, you probably already know that though.”

 

Regina just looks at her, silently apologising, and gets two mugs out of the cupboard. She puts the hot chocolate into each of them, and finds the whipped cream and cinnamon. She notices that Henry is watching her very closely, and she wonders whether he remembers her just a little bit, or maybe he just recognises her. They do say everyone you dream of, you’ve already seen before, like a passing face in the street or a random person in a coffee shop. She hopes he sometimes dreams about her, about their former life, and then of course he just passes it off as a weird dream. What if he does remember her? She turns to look at him, and he quickly looks away, back to his Gameboy. This entire situation is so odd, it’s so strange having them both there, not knowing who she is or what’s happened in the past however long. Regina never thought she would get this privilege ever again, and she’s so thankful for it, even if the cause of this meeting is a negative aspect in Emma’s eyes.

 

“Do you two both like whipped cream with cinnamon on top?” She already knows the answer, but she waits for two nodding heads and then turns back around to the mugs. She has her back to them both, and she hears them talking about something to do with school. Henry must be missing school to be here, she immediately feels guilty, she shouldn’t be getting in the way of his studies, but she supposes that life isn’t real, not anymore anyway. They’re back in Storybrooke, and Regina isn’t going to let them leave without a fight, besides as soon as they set foot into Granny’s, they’d be instantly recognised. In fact, Regina’s surprised that awful, yellow bug hadn’t been noticed during their drive in.

 

“You said you have a son who likes that too?”

 

“Yes, he was very fond of it.”

 

Carefully, Regina picks up the kettle of boiling water and pours it into one of the mugs. Subtly, as she’s pouring the other mug, she slips a hand into her pocket, pulls the stopper out of the potion bottle and pours the liquid into one of them. Once she’s done, she slides the bottle back into her pocket and tops the mug up with more water, adds the whipped cream, adds sprinkles of cinnamon and hands them over to Emma and Henry. They’re sitting comfortably up at the island and hopefully they don’t suspect a thing; Regina knows that for the potion to take effect, the entire liquid must be consumed, so Emma’s memories won’t come back until she’s completely finished the drink. Regina must keep up appearances until then, make up stories, convincing stories, and avoid a further conversation about her son.

 

“Is he at school right now? College?”

 

Well, that lasted long, Regina thinks and she sighs softly. She begins to make herself a cup of tea and takes a moment to collect herself. This conversation is uncomfortable to talk about, her son is sitting right there, and he doesn’t have a clue who she is. She closes her eyes momentarily, lifting her hand to rub them gently—they’re filling with tears again, and she really can’t afford to have a breakdown right now.

 

Regina hears an exaggerated sip and a moan; she decides to turn around once she’s forced away the tears, and looks straight at Emma.

 

“Oh God, that’s so good. How’s yours, kid?”

 

“Yeah, good, really good.” He grins, “thanks Regina.” He scoops some of the whipped cream up onto his finger and licks it off. He seems to be enjoying it, and Regina is so close to telling him to remember his manners and to use a spoon instead, but she suppresses the need. He begins to guzzle down the hot chocolate as soon as it’s cool enough, and she’s just waiting for the moment he asks for another with more whipped cream than before. She doesn’t know what she’ll say if he does, she would prefer if he didn’t, all the sugar in that drink is probably enough to keep him up all night, but she desperately wants him to like her, to like the Mayor, so maybe she’d say yes.

 

“You’re very welcome, Henry.” She pauses slightly, turning her attention back to Emma. “No. He’s not at school, nor is he at college. He’s… well,” she taps her fingernails on her teacup. “… Not here.”

 

“Not here?”

 

“I… lost him, a while ago.”

 

“Oh, right…” Emma scratches her wrist awkwardly and looks around the room. “Uh, sorry.”

 

“It’s quite alright, dear. You didn’t know.”

 

“What was his name?”

 

“H––” she pauses and glances to Henry, “Harry.”

 

Emma just nods to her response and sips her hot chocolate again. Regina watches her wipe her mouth with the end of her sleeve (clearly Regina’s influence hasn’t changed her lack of manners), and look back up to her.

 

“So, I guess we should get this over with. You’re gonna answer all my questions, every single one of ‘em.”

 

“Alright. What would you like to know?”

 

“I wanna know why you called so much, why you know my name, my son’s name, his _teacher’s_ name… it’s fucking – sorry, Henry – weird, and I don’t like it. I don’t like sitting here with you when I don’t know really know who you are. I mean, yeah, I know your name’s Regina, I know where you live, and your job but I don’t know anything else. I planned to come here, get answers, scare you the hell away and then go back home. I wasn’t expecting to come in and have hot chocolate and talk to you about your dead son. I’m done being nice. I want answers and I want them fast, Regina, and then you’re going to leave me and my family alone, you got that? So, how the _hell_ do you know all of this? Why are you fucking stalking us!?”

 

 _Dead son_.

 

Regina has never thought about it like that before. She supposes her son is dead, not dead, but gone, and there’s a chance he’ll never come back. She looks over to Henry, who looks like he’s too busy playing a game to take any notice of this, but Regina knows he’s a smart boy, and he’ll be listening to absolutely everything they say. She looks back to Emma, she doesn’t exactly know what to say, she wants to say the right thing, but it’s going to be hard to convince Emma to realise that she isn’t going to hurt them when she’s been calling them and pretending to be someone else. It’s not a good start, it’s not how she wants this to go, she just wants them both to remember and she glances to Emma’s mug to see how much of the hot chocolate she’s had. Not much, but Emma’s going at a good pace. At least when she’s finished it, it will all make sense, and it will all be okay.

 

The tone in Emma’s voice isn’t exactly warm, and she isn’t being nice, but somehow, they manage to create a sort of relaxed atmosphere in an extremely tense and complicated situation, without even trying. Regina wonders whether it’s because they do know each other, just one half of them has no idea about it –– it’s hard speaking to someone when you know absolutely everything about them, and they know absolutely nothing about you. She thinks this is what’s making this situation harder to deal with, she has to watch what she’s saying, and even lie a few times, just to make sure she doesn’t anger Emma to the extent that she’ll up and leave and never see Regina again. That would be the worst outcome of this situation, so Regina’s working on buttering Emma up, being nice – but not _too_ nice – and accommodating her so that Emma can trust her.

 

“I understand, it’s a strange situation. The fact is is that I researched you; I know you’re very good at finding people and I need a little help with something. I wanted to talk to you before I hired y—”

 

“—Mom?”

 

Out of habit, Regina looks to Henry, but to her surprise, she realises he’s staring straight back at her. He’s looking at her, but not in the way he was before; he’s not looking straight through her, he’s not uninterested. He’s looking at her in a quizzical kind of way, in a way that he may know who she is, not the Mayor, but his mom. Regina’s eyes flicker down to look at his mug, it’s empty, he’s finished it all and then it hits her, she must have mixed the hot chocolates up. She can’t believe she’s managed to make such an idiotic mistake, it’s such a simple task to give the right drink to the right person, but she just mustn’t have thought about it after adding the potion. Baby brain, possibly, or maybe it’s just her own stupid mistake. She does have a lot going on right now. Of course the mistake can’t be excused, but that could be the reason for the mix up.

 

Regina feels like she can’t breathe; it’s as if the oxygen has been sucked out of the room. She knows how problematic this is, but he knows who she is. A smile spreads across her face and she starts to move around the island to hug him, but she stops herself, Emma’s memory isn’t back. The tears start again, and she realises she can’t do anything; she can’t hold him or hug him or kiss him. If she does, Emma may take him away from her.

 

“Mom,” he repeats himself. The tone of his voice is more certain this time, and it crackles slightly, reminding Regina of how much he’s grown since she last saw him. She bites her lip and watches him as he continues to say, “mom! I remember! I remember everything!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for the late update. As you all probably know, I usually update within four or five days of the last chapter, but this month I'm spending time with family in the South East of England, therefore I'm not in my house and can't write as much as I normally do. So, until August, updates will be delayed but I will try and update as soon as I can (I hope that's okay!). Also, I'd just like to mention that this chapter isn't as polished as I'd like it to be, but I really wanted to get this up for you all to read, as if I didn't, I think I would continue editing and editing it until there was nothing left.
> 
> As I've said in previous chapters, but would just like to reiterate… I'd like to thank you for all the lovely comments, kudos and views –– I'm so happy you're all still enjoying this story and I hope you'll enjoy where it's going in these next chapters.

 

There’s a moment of pure silence, and no one moves; Henry is staring at Regina, and Regina is staring right back. She notices Emma move out of the corner of her eye, this is it; this is the moment when Emma flips, grabs Henry, leaves and never comes back. There is almost no possible way Regina can explain why Henry is calling her ‘mom’ and why he’s telling her that he remembers, unless she pushes the argument she used back when Emma first arrived in Storybrooke—that it’s just his way of coping. Henry’s been through a lot, and Regina doesn’t want to make him feel like he’s going crazy again, she doesn’t want to exclude him, to make him feel like she doesn’t care, so she doesn’t particularly want to lie; but she has absolutely no choice. She’s going to have to lie to Emma _again_ , and hope that she believes every word she says, whilst – at the same time – letting Henry know that she fully believes everything she’s saying. It almost feels like the entire world is against her, she’s on one side, and the universe is on another, out to get her for the pain and misery she’s caused throughout her life, because she knows that there’s no possible way she’s going to come out of this without any repercussions.

 

Before Regina gets a chance to find her words, Emma’s head turns to look at Henry, “yeah?” When he doesn’t reply, she shoves him playfully, “what’d you remember, kid?”

 

“Everything,” he glances to Emma but his eyes pull back to Regina, “I—”

 

She locks eyes with Henry, gently shakes her head and subtly motions to Emma. Regina can hardly believe Emma didn’t notice Henry staring at her, and calling her ‘mom’. How did she miss that? It’s entirely obvious that Henry is speaking to Regina, but Emma must have somehow missed it. But Henry nods ever so slightly, and Regina knows he understands the situation. Hopefully, they would have some time together, alone, later… if Emma would allow that, which, in Regina’s opinion, is extremely unlikely. Emma’s been stuck to his side ever since she set foot into the house, and Regina isn’t so sure she would allow her to babysit any time soon.

 

“Actually, mom,” he turns to look at Emma. “I gotta use the bathroom.”

 

“The bathroom is upstairs and to the left, Henry.”

 

“Yeah, right. Got it.” He grins, he knows exactly where the bathroom is and it warms Regina’s heart to know that. He’s back, her little prince is back. She isn’t a stranger to him anymore, she isn’t _just_ a Mayor, she’s back to being his mother, even if they can’t fully acknowledge it at the moment. He slides down from the stool, “actually, m— Regina, could you show me where it is?”

 

“Up the stairs to the left, kid,” Emma says and he shrugs, a little disheartened.

 

Regina can tell that Henry is desperate to talk to her, just as she is with him, and she can’t even explain that they can’t talk right now, because she can’t talk to him as his mom at all, only the mayor. All Regina wants to do is hug Henry; to wrap her arms around him, kiss his head and just hold him tightly; she never wants to let him go ever again. He’s never going to leave again; she’s going to try her hardest to make sure of that. Henry is so precious to Regina, he’s her only son, and she needs him. Henry is like her security blanket, when he’s around, she feels safe, like she’s able to be herself, able to smile and laugh and enjoy herself. She doesn’t have construct an idealised image of herself to cope, to shield herself from the world, she can just be Regina, as she’s always wanted to be. She’s so lucky to have a son like Henry, and she hopes she gets the chance to tell him that.

  

She honestly doesn’t know whether she’ll love this new baby as much as she loves Henry, because even though she isn’t Henry’s birth mother, she felt a connection the first time she held him, like it was meant to be. Even when they’re angry at each other, or frustrated, there’s always still love, still a connection there that tells them both that everything is going to be okay. She made a choice to adopt Henry, to care for him and raise him as her own son. With this baby, she isn’t sure, she hasn’t had that feeling; in fact, she doesn’t really feel pregnant at all. Apart from the swelling stomach, aches and pains, sickness, she doesn’t feel connected—she feels detached, as if the baby is resisting her, or maybe she’s resisting him. This baby, her new son—the one she and some man created—is her own flesh and blood, but he feels foreign to her. This all feels wrong.

 

“Teenagers,” Emma laughs and Regina raises her head to acknowledge her. “I think he has a crush on you.”

 

She nearly spits out her tea, “what!?”

 

“He’s acting weird, telling you he loves your hot chocolate, asking you to show him where the bathroom is… he wants to spend time with you. Typical teenager crush.”

 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m—”

 

“An attractive woman, to say the least, of course he’s gonna have a crush on you.”

 

“Oh, I see.” Regina doesn’t show it, but she’s intrigued that Emma just called her attractive, she would have never pinned Emma to be the person to take notice of these things. Appearance doesn’t seem to be one of Emma’s top priorities, but maybe Regina’s wrong, maybe it is one of her priorities. Besides, Emma is only saying that to explain Henry’s erratic behaviour, plus she’s pregnant, and Regina knows what they say about pregnant women—they glow, that must be the explanation for it. She doesn’t know what to say, so she replies with a “well, thank you Ms. Swan” and finishes her cup of tea.

 

“So, you were saying you needed to find someone, and that’s why you called?”

 

“Yes,” her eyes linger on the door Henry just exited through. “I suppose you could say that.” Regina turns her attention back to Emma and begins to absentmindedly twist her ring around her finger.

 

“Right, that doesn’t explain how you know all of this stuff about us? So spill.”

 

“I just do, Ms. Swan. It’s such a complicated situation to get into at this hour.”

 

“Here’s the thing… I know you’re hiding something, I can see it in your eyes. So, if you don’t tell me what the _fuck_ is going on in thirty seconds, I’m leaving. I will get Henry and I will drive out of this town and never come back.”

 

“I—” Regina has absolutely no idea what to say. What can she say? She has no connections to this Emma, no similarities (apart from Henry). This Emma doesn’t like her, this Emma thinks of her as some kind of threat like she did in the past. And then it clicks, “I know Neal.”

 

That surely gets Emma’s attention; she stiffens slightly and stares coldly at Regina. “You know Neal? That’s your explanation? If you know Neal so well, you’d fucking know how much I—”

 

“I know you two aren’t in touch, nor are you close, and I know Neal doesn’t know about Henry. Neither did I. I found out about him when I called you the first time, I heard him in the background. I didn’t use a permanent alias the first few times I called, I actually enquired about your work a few times if you recall. Once I became aware of Henry’s existence, I assumed he attended school, and you told me his age—I found out what his teacher’s name was through that.”

 

“That doesn’t—”

 

“Please, Ms. Swan. Let me speak.” She licks her lips slightly; “Neal and I know each other through… mutual friends, you could say, though we don’t travel in the same social group—clearly. Neal made me aware of your job, that you were adept at finding people, people who don’t want to be found, and well… I needed to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. I thought you might be perfect for the job. However, he made me aware of your… previous situation, that you were in prison, and when I hear the word ‘prison’ in relation to a possible new employee, well… can you blame me for wanting to know a little more about you before I jumped in head first? Of course, finding out you have a son, and that you live in New York City and have a stable, respectable job confirmed to me that I can probably trust you.”

 

“ _You_ can trust _me_? You’ve gotta be kidding me, you stalked me!”

 

“No, not stalked… acquired information about you and used it to my advantage.”

 

“What the hell are you talking about? That’s stalking, _and_ illegal.”

 

“Stalking would require me to physically follow, contact or attempt to contact a person by any means, loiter in a particular place, or watch and spy on a person. I’m a Mayor, Ms. Swan, I know these things.”

 

“You contacted me, that’s stalking.”

 

“Well, possibly. But,” Regina holds up a finger. “I didn’t follow through. I didn’t contact you after the last call.”

 

“Because I caught you! You were fucking stalking us, just admit it _Regina_ , if that’s actually your real name because I honestly don’t believe a word you’re saying. But you can continue spouting shit if it makes you feel better.”

 

“Look, I apologise for gathering information on you and using it to my advantage, I apologise for making you feel uncomfortable about both you and your son’s safety. Though, I do hope we can look past this and start afresh.”

 

“Yeah, you’d be lucky. Hire someone else. We’re gonna go.”

 

“Wait. I can pay you upfront, and then if you find the person I’m looking for, I’ll give you a bonus.”

 

“If you think I care about money, lady, you’re wrong.”

 

“I think you care about it to some extent, Ms. Swan, besides, how else would you care for your son if you can’t pay the bills? I really do need your help, and from what I hear, you’re the best person for the job. I’d like to work with you to find my sister.”

 

“No.”

 

She steps forward slightly, “please?”

 

“No,” Emma slides down from her stool, just as Henry did moments ago. “And don’t ask again.”

 

“Her name is Zelena, I’ve just been told she’s my half sister. My mother never told me about her; in fact, I really know nothing about her. But it’s possible that she’s in this town, and she wants to hurt me. I— I can’t do it myself because… well, I’ve never met her, and I’m afraid she may… try to hurt me, or… hurt my… family.” Regina rests a hand on her stomach, “you see, Ms. Swan, I’m pregnant, three months, and I’m terrified. I’m terrified that she’ll come find me, hurt me, but most importantly hurt my baby. I— I can’t… deal with that.”

 

It’s partly true, Regina is worried about the safety of her baby, especially because of the uncertainty of this new curse—it occurs to her that maybe Zelena is responsible. Although, she isn’t even sure whether this Zelena is even her sister, whether she’s a threat, or whether she’s even real. Jefferson could be lying, but Regina doesn’t think he would lie at the expense of his daughter; he knows she could easily hurt her, she doesn’t think he would risk that. However, Regina has become weaker, she admits that, Henry’s love has made her weaker, as her mother always told her, so Jefferson may assume she wouldn’t hurt Grace. Regina shakes her head to herself, rubbing her stomach very slightly and looks to Emma.

 

The blonde’s eyes flicker down to Regina’s stomach, trying to figure out whether Regina is lying through her teeth, “pregnant?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You got a husband?”

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

“Boyfriend?”

 

“No,” Regina replies. These questions are a little invasive, and she assumes it’s deliberate. Emma wants to get under her skin, down to the deeply honest truth, and to do that; she knows she’s going to have to whittle Regina down to her core. But Regina’s smart, and she knows exactly how Emma’s thinking. “The baby is my fiancé’s, Daniel, he… he died in a terrible accident. His… heart was crushed, and he died almost instantly. My son,” Regina swallows, and looks back up to Emma. They lock eyes, “he’s all I have left.”

 

Regina’s trying to connect with Emma, to make her feel as if she can fully trust her. After all, Regina’s pregnant without the baby’s father, and she’s worried about the future, all of which Emma can relate to when she was pregnant with Henry. Although, it’s an entirely different situation, Regina doesn’t know the baby’s father and she isn’t in prison, but it’s still similar enough to get through to Emma, to tug on her heartstrings—if she has any.

 

“Okay,” Emma says. “I’ll stay. I’ll help you find her, on one condition.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“After all of this is over, you leave my family alone. You got that?”

 

Regina sucks air in through her teeth and nods very slightly; she’s hoping she’ll have convinced Emma to stay by then anyway, so what’s the harm in agreeing to that deal? If Emma gets her memories back, she won’t leave again, she has everything she wants here and everything Regina doesn’t have here—a family. Of course, she has Henry, but he’s not exactly hers anymore. When Emma first arrived in town, she admitted that she wasn’t here to take Henry away from Regina, but since then, it seems like all she’s tried to do is leave and never come back, taking Henry with her. Because of that, Henry isn’t really Regina’s anymore, and she doesn’t believe that’s fair in the slightest. In fact, she wants to speak about that with Emma, once she regains her memories; it’s so important to Regina to be able to spend time with Henry, to be trusted with him, to have him sleep in his own bed once in a while. She can’t bear to walk past his room and see it entirely empty anymore, there needs to be a body in the bed, a body she can hug and kiss and talk to when she’s down. Henry is the only person who makes her happy, who understands her, who can make her laugh when she’s so close to giving up. Henry’s well on the way to believing Regina to be a hero, rather than the villain in his storybook.

 

“Yes. I ‘got that’, Ms. Swan. Thank you.”

 

“Lemme grab some work stuff from the car, paperwork etcetera…” Henry walks back into the kitchen, smiling, and takes his seat up at the island again. “You’re okay with Henry, yeah?”

 

Regina replies with a small “yes”; of course she’s okay with Henry. As soon as Emma leaves the room and heads to her car, she looks straight over to Henry and smiles very softly. Her arms spread out and he runs over to her, they embrace and she rests her head on the top of his head. He’s _so_ tall, she remembers when he used to insist he was carried everywhere, he loved being close to Regina. In fact, Regina even let him sleep in her bed most nights, if Graham weren’t there, because she hated being lonely and so did he. They found comfort in each other, and that’s one of the things they’ve both missed since Henry found out he was adopted, Emma arrived in town and the curse was broken.

 

“Mom,” his arms grip her tightly and he breathes in her perfume. There’s a sense of relief in his voice, and Regina just smiles, she’s happy to be called ‘mom’ again, and she’s happy Henry is the one saying it. She’s missed being called ‘mom’, because that’s who she is, that’s what she is, that’s the part of herself she loves, that she’s proud of and once Henry left, that part of her disappeared. Finding out she’s pregnant again isn’t the same, a new baby calling her ‘mama’ or ‘mom’ isn’t the same as Henry saying it, because she knows Henry, she loved him at first sight. Maybe she would love this baby at first sight too; not knowing who Henry’s parents were didn’t bother her that much, because she was his parent, his one and only parent, the one he deserves. However, not knowing this baby’s father is proving to be harder than expected, because she doesn’t understand how she can be pregnant, she doesn’t understand how it’s possible, but it is. She also doesn’t know whether to tell Henry or not, she’s a little worried Emma may bring it up in front of him, and she’d rather him hear from her than someone. He grins, “I’m so happy to see you!”

 

She pulls away, but keeps her hands firmly placed on his shoulders, “and I’m _so_ happy to see you too, Henry. I’ve missed you so much.” She pulls him in for another hug, and closes her eyes. “You have no idea how awful it’s been without you.”

 

“I wish we could’ve come back to the Enchanted Forest with you and Grandpa and Grandma, that would’ve been cool. Sword–fighting, horse–riding, fighting dragons… it would’ve been awesome.”

 

“That’s not how the curse worked, Henry, you know that.”

 

“I knooow, but… it woulda been so cool. Don’t you think? Grandpa could’ve taught me sword–fighting, Grandma could’ve taught me archery, and you could’ve taught me magic!”

 

“Yes, I suppose it would have been fun, albeit… dangerous.” She takes a small breathe, “I… I don’t like thinking about you being there, Henry, it’s an extremely dangerous place, and those activities are dangerous too. I don’t think I’ll ever teach you magic, it isn’t appropriate for a boy your age, it… my magic is dark.”

 

“Oh c’mon mom!” He laughs, “you worry about me too much. You can teach me good magic, you’re not evil anymore.”

 

“I worry because I love you, Henry,” she looks at him. She’s almost ashamed at what she’s about to admit, she wishes she could perform white magic, but she was never taught that. She was taught dark magic, and she was taught it so that she could be shaped into the person who would be so broken, that they would consider casting a dark curse upon the entire land, to find her own happy ending, whilst getting revenge on everyone else. “I’m afraid I was never taught white magic, only dark. I was taught it because Rumplestiltskin manipulated me, and I’m not going to let that happen to you. You’re a good boy, you’re my little Prince, and you will never _ever_ use dark magic. Do you understand?”

 

“Mooom,” he whines and she laughs softly even though this is an extremely serious matter. He’s definitely become more like a teenager since she last saw him, “I got it, okay? Dark magic: bad, white magic: good, magic in general: dangerous.”

 

Regina just nods, sliding her hands to cup his cheeks and she just looks at him. She takes him in, his face, his hair, his entire self, because somewhere inside, she’s worried Emma will still take him away, even after she remembers everything. Maybe Emma will believe that Henry is better off in New York, away from the craziness of Storybrooke, away from his villain of a mother…

 

“Hey,” Henry interrupts her thoughts. “So, how’d my memories come back and not Emma’s?”

 

“Neal sent me a potion, a memory potion and it somehow magically appeared here in Storybrooke amongst my things. I—accidentally—put it in your hot chocolate by mistake. It was meant for Emma, so that she and I could figure out a way to get your memories back and to find out who cursed us again.”

 

“You’re cursed again? How?”

 

“I believe so, yes. We don’t remember our time in the Enchanted Forest.”

 

“You don’t remember anything? Wait… who would wanna curse you?”

 

“No, nothing. And I don’t know, Henry. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

 

“Well it definitely wasn’t you,” he moves over to the fridge and helps himself to a glass of orange juice. Regina is so happy he’s back to his normal self, and she’s even more happy that he doesn’t believe she cast the curse, she couldn’t, if she had, she would have had Henry from the very beginning, and it wouldn’t be in this sort of situation where they have to tip–toe around Emma. “So, who could it be? Who’s a villain? Hook? Maybe it’s Ursula, or Maleficent, or… what’s the one in Tangled? I can’t remember, anyway… maybe Emma can help; she’s still the saviour, even though she doesn’t remember anything. Maybe you should just show her your magic, then she’ll believe, and then she can kiss me and everything will go back to normal because of true love’s kiss. Where’s the book? You could give her the book to read! To refresh her memory!”

 

Even though Henry is older now, Regina can’t help but see him as the little boy she raised, and somehow, she believes he does act a little younger around her. It’s almost as if it’s a habit of his, when he’s around his mother, he instantly changes, and turns into the excited, inspiring little boy he once used to be. Now, he’s still both of those things, he’s just grown a foot taller, his voice is a little deeper, and he’s matured slightly. He knows more, he knows _a lot_ more than he used to, and it worries her that it’s possible he may not need her anymore, but she’s secretly hoping he’ll always need his mommy—he always has been a mommy’s boy.

 

“I’m afraid the book has been swept away with this curse. It isn’t anywhere to be found. Once we returned to Storybrooke, I looked for it for a little while, to refresh my memory of the stories in your book, and to see if there was any explanation on who could have a vengeance against us. Unfortunately, no luck, I couldn’t find it anywhere.”

 

He nods, “okay. So, we gotta find a way to get mom’s memories back, find out who cursed the town again, and defeat ‘em. Sounds easy enough. C’mon, let’s hit the streets, talk to people and see what they say.”

 

“We have plenty of time to do all that. Besides, I need Emma to trust me first, before we do anything, so you must pretend like you don’t know me, alright?”

 

He nods, “okay mom.”

 

“And you must tell me all about your time in New York, I’d love to hear all about it.”

 

“Oh god, mom, the pizza is _so_ good there, like almost as good as yours.”

 

“Almost?”

 

“Okay, it’s like… joint first with yours.”

 

She smiles, “so I have some competition?”

 

He shrugs, “I guess.” There’s a small moment of silence where both of them are just enjoying each other’s company, enjoying the time they have with each other until Emma decides to parade back in and ruins the entire moment—but, she doesn’t, not yet. “I love you mom.”

 

“I love you too, Henry.”

 

“I gotta tell you something about New York, actually…”

 

“Oh? I have something to tell you too, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react, but you go first, darling.”

 

“Emma, she’s… well… in New York, she—”

 

The blonde returns in from the car, her arms are filled with all sorts of things: paperwork, a laptop, a pen, a notebook… there’s almost so much that it looks like she could topple over, but she won’t. Regina knows Emma is strong—she has the biceps to prove it—there’s absolutely no way Emma would allow anything on the pile to fall, especially in front of company. Regina just knows her like that, in fact, she knows a lot of useless (and useful) things about the younger woman, and she can’t quite put her finger on why she knows these things. They must have talked a few times, so that Regina could find this out, or maybe it’s because she had Sidney research her all of those years ago, but she practically knows Emma inside and out, and she’s sure Emma knows Regina a lot more than she thinks she does—well, pre–fake–memories Emma. It’s kind of nice, that both of them know a lot about the other, even though they don’t get on all of the time, their relationship—since Neverland—has become mostly civil, and Regina knows Emma was thankful for giving her and Henry a new life.

 

Emma places her things on the island, and starts to sort a few things out. Regina glances hastily to Henry, to make sure he knows the plan is in action starting from now, and watches him move back over to his seat out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Okay, let’s get started, shall we?” Emma opens her laptop, types in a password, and pulls up a program Regina has never seen before. “What’s the woman’s name?”

 

“Zelena.”

 

“Zelena?”

 

“Yes, Zelena.”

 

“Weird name. Surname?”

 

“Mills…?” Regina’s honestly not sure what surname Zelena uses, or even if she uses one in the first place. If she is in town, she doubts it’ll come up on Emma’s laptop, because of the fact that Zelena doesn’t want to be found. Also, this is a fictional town, and fictional towns don’t usually appear on the internet or programs used to find people, especially not those in which were created to house a bunch of fairytale characters from another land.

 

“Regina and Zelena Mills… you two could be like, a comedy duo.”

 

Henry stifles a laugh at the thought of his mother being part of a comedy duo, and then covers his mouth to muffle it, “who’s Zelena?”

 

“My half–sister,” Regina answers, and looks over to him. “ _Apparently_. It’s complicated, dear.”

 

“Is this her?” Emma swivels the laptop around to face Regina, and rests her left hand on the top of it, ready to spin it back around to face her. Regina’s eyes aren’t drawn to the screen, but to the shining diamond ring on her finger, and her mouth drops very slightly. Emma leaves for however many months, and she’s engaged already, how on earth did that happen? Regina didn’t write that into their new memories, so Emma must have done this herself, someone must have proposed to her and she must have said _yes_. Regina honestly doesn’t believe Emma is the marrying type; she seems more like the person to just spend the rest of her life with someone, without marrying them. She seems like the type who thinks marriage is a farce, and is overrated because you can have that without saying some stupid vows and exchanging rings, as she would say.

 

“Is that––”

 

“Huh?” Emma follows Regina’s eye–line to her ring and looks back to her, “oh yeah, I forgot about that. You wanna see?” Emma wriggles her finger slightly, and holds it out to Regina for her to look at it. Regina just stares at the ring, she cannot believe this is happening. Why has everything changed so much in such a small amount of time? “You like it?”

 

No, she doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like the ring at all, it’s not Emma’s style, it’s nothing like she would wear; Regina knows that and she can see it in Emma’s eyes too. Emma doesn’t want this, she doesn’t want to be engaged to this person, especially when they don’t know her enough to know that she would want a simple ring –– she isn’t one to show off. Regina also doesn’t like the fact that, while she can’t remember anything from however long they’ve been away, Emma and Henry’s life has continued on. Henry probably has friends he doesn’t know about, maybe he even has a girlfriend or a boyfriend, she doesn’t know, but she wants to, and she most definitely wants to know who Emma’s engaged to. Snow and Charming are going to be unhappy because they’ve never met this suitor, which kind of makes Regina feel a little bit happier about the situation, but still, she’s furious Emma could be so terribly selfish. Emma shouldn’t be engaged, and she can’t be. Her entire family is from another land, for Gods’ sake, and Regina thinks she shouldn’t be allowed to be engaged—it just causes unnecessary problems for everyone, _including_ Emma. This is the most idiotic thing she has ever done – and Emma has done some stupid things in her life – by far.

 

Regina doesn’t exactly know how to respond to Emma’s question, but she definitely doesn’t want to lie because Emma would see right through her. Lying in a situation like this, because she’s so against it, would possibly hurt the relationship they’ve built in the last hour, even though it’s not the best it could be. It will get better, Regina knows that; as long as she’s careful about what she says and how she acts around Emma and Henry, she’ll be fine. Emma will begin to trust her, just as she did in the beginning, but how long that would take is another thing—this time, she has the obstacle of overcoming Emma’s fear of Regina wanting to hurt her family. The brunette moves a little closer to inspect the ring, it’s _definitely_ not Emma’s thing, and she doesn’t understand that if this person proposed to her, then they should definitely know what Emma likes and dislikes, but clearly they don’t. Therefore, in Regina’s eyes, they shouldn’t be engaged at all. She uncharacteristically, quickly rehearses a well–put–together lie of “yes, it’s lovely” but she can’t stop the truth coming out, and even though it’s probably the most inappropriate thing to say to Emma at this moment in time, she says it: “well, dear, I wouldn’t say ‘like’.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

The words, just spilled from Regina’s mouth, bounce off the walls of the silent room, and she watches as Emma’s cold eyes flicker up from the ring to meet her own. Regina knows for a fact that this isn’t going to play out well, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes; she wishes ever so much that the real Emma were here, instead of this fake one she created, because the real Emma would most definitely roll her eyes at herself too. Emma isn’t, and will probably never be, a wedding person, nor would she ever accept a ring from someone she met in a little under a year—unless she’d fallen in love, or found her soul mate in New York. Regina supposes it’s possible, but in this world it’s extremely hard to find soul mates and experience happy endings, that’s why she brought everyone here. But, clearly, Emma has managed to find someone, and there’s an odd twinge in her chest—which she casts off as a heart palpitation, provoked by the baby—when she refuses to accept she’s a little jealous that Emma was so easily able to move on and find a fiancé, even if magic may have had something to do with the former.

 

Regina’s eyes scan down to watch Emma curl her fingers up into a fist, and then she turns her attention to Henry, whose eyes are filled with panic at—what Regina assumes as—the thought of Emma taking him back to New York, and never seeing Regina again. She shoots him a small, confident look, to try to assure him that she knows exactly what she’s doing, even if she has absolutely no idea what the hell she’s been saying for the past thirty minutes. This baby is really taking its toll on her, though she can’t blame it all on him, even though she really wants to. She wants to blame the baby for everything, for the curse, for being rude to Emma, for being created, but she can’t, and it’s killing her that she’s thinking about her own baby in this way. She would have never thought about Henry like this, she would never have blamed anything on Henry, she loves Henry, so why can’t she love this baby too? She’s not sure, and she’s not particularly looking forward to finding out why, but the baby isn’t that old just yet, and there’s a possibility that she’d warm to him later in the pregnancy when she can feel him moving around.

 

Emma curls her fingers into a fist, “what the hell?”

 

Regina chooses to ignore what Emma just did, because if she didn’t, conceptions of Emma’s childhood in the foster system and on the streets would seep into her brain. There’s absolutely no doubt that Emma knows how to fight, and there’s absolutely no doubt that Regina has no idea how to fight, unless it’s with magic and she can’t use that right now. So, instead of provoking Emma further, Regina replies softly, “I apologise. That was rude of me. What I meant was… it’s just not my style, nor does it seem like it’s yours either, that’s all.”

 

“How would you know what my style is in the thirty minutes you’ve known me?”

 

“Mom, she didn’t mean it,” Henry pleads, and both Regina and Emma shoot him a glance to stay out of this conversation. Emma’s glance is cold and sharp, almost as if she’s saying that one, there’s no reason for Henry to protect Regina, and two, this conversation doesn’t need a thirteen-year-old’s opinion. Regina’s glance is warm, she’s asking him to not get involved because one, she doesn’t want Emma to become even more suspicious about their relationship than she already is, and two, because she doesn’t want Emma to get angry with Henry—it isn’t right for him to deal with the blunt of their argument.

 

Regina nods slowly and admits, “I suppose I wouldn’t.”

 

“Exactly,” Emma shakes her head. “Here’s the thing… I’m here to work, get paid and leave. No personal business. We’re different people, and we clash, so… let’s just stick to the job, yeah? Then we’ll be outta your hair.”

 

It pains her to say it, but she does—“Agreed.” Regina wants so much to talk to Emma about what’s happened in the past year, but she supposes she’ll have to wait until her memories come back, if they even come back at all.

 

After settling the drama, Regina and Emma go through a few details about Zelena; how old she is, what she looks like, where she used to live, questions which Regina can hardly answer at all, or only give a rough estimate, and she’s afraid that Emma may believe she’s lying. But it doesn’t seem like Emma’s phased by it at all, Regina supposes she's seen this type of case, where people don't know who they're looking for, a lot more than she anticipated. As Regina rattles off mostly useless information, Emma continues to type a few things on her laptop, ask others questions, and then write all the details Regina does know (mostly what Jefferson told her, sans magic) on a small notepad beside her. They don't get very far, but Emma seems to have found a few things worth noting down, before it gets too late, and she packs up her things and shoves them into a bag.

 

“So, we’d best be off to find somewhere to stay tonight. Is there a hotel around here or…?”

 

“Oh, please stay the night. It’s awfully late,” Regina motions over to Henry, who is pretending to fight to keep his eyes open by previous instruction of Regina. “And I wouldn’t want you two getting lost, especially in this weather. I will show you to Granny’s tomorrow, it’s the local bed and breakfast here in town, but for tonight, please stay. I have plenty of room, and it’s the least I can do… consider it as an apology?”

 

“Yeah, alright,” Emma accepts, and Regina’s heart almost drops at the possibility of her saying no. Regina needs to somehow alert the town on Emma and Henry’s reappearance, without provoking more accusations that she cast this new curse. Maybe she’d enlist Snow and Charming’s help, just this once, although that may bring more trouble that it could cause. They both would want to see Emma and Henry, to talk to them, and Regina can’t risk them spilling out information about Emma’s real life, but there’s a possibility she’ll have to. She needs the entire town to act as if Emma and Henry are completely new people that they’ve never met before; she needs them to act just as they did when Emma arrived in Storybrooke, just as they did when she cursed them to forget who they were.

 

Later, Regina shows both Emma and Henry to their rooms, informs them of where the bathroom is and then leaves them be to get changed into her nightgown. She believes they must both be settled and in bed until Henry whispers a “mom” along the corridor, she turns to look at him; his head is peeking out from behind the doorframe, and he’s squinting in the dim light.

 

“Don’t squint, dear, you’ll get wrinkles.” She smiles softly, and takes his chin into her fingers like she always does and whispers, “is something the matter?” Regina realises, just before Henry replies that she doesn’t have a bend in her knee. She isn’t bending down to meet him because he’s smaller than her, she’s standing completely straight, still looking down on him, but he’s so much taller than when she last saw him.

 

“I just… can I sleep in my bed?”

 

“I’m afraid it would look rather odd if I allowed you to sleep in there, don’t you think? Especially since Emma believes you’re… gone.”

 

“I’ll set an alarm super early, mom, or you can wake me up. Emma sleeps in all the time, it’ll be fine,” he pleads. He’s clearly homesick, and wants to spend a night in the room he grew up in, the room he was happy in for so many years. Regina wants so dearly to let him, and she supposes that plan seems to sound like it’ll work, albeit having a big risk of Emma finding an empty spare room where Henry is supposed to be.

 

“Would you really prefer to sleep there and wake up early?”

 

“Yeah,” he says and watches expectantly until Regina nods slowly. “Thanks mom,” he hugs her and she slowly wraps her arms around him again, rests her chin comfortably on the top of his head and closes her eyes.

 

“You’re welcome. Now, get to sleep, it’s past your bedtime.”

 

He grins, says “g’night mom” and retreats into his bedroom. Regina knows he probably doesn’t even have a bedtime anymore, or even if he did, he’d probably break it. She can imagine him staying up at night, reading his comics and getting lost in their stories as he did as a younger child, and she used to scold him for it because of school early the next day. She finds herself standing idly in the hallway for what seems like forever, but what is really only half a minute, until Henry peeks out of the doorway once again. “Do you think true love’s kiss would work?”

 

“What?”

 

“For Emma to get her memories back… when she kissed me, and it was true love’s kiss, everyone else remembered their old lives.”

 

“I’m not so sure, Henry. She doesn’t believe, and without the book, we have no way of helping her believe.”

 

“We’ll find another way, we just have to be positive. We could maybe get her to kiss her true love and see what happens?”

 

“Has she kissed you since you two crossed over the town line?”

 

“No, not me! Anna!”

 

“… Anna?”

 

“Yeah, her fiancée! She hasn't kissed her in Storybrooke, I’ll call her and tell her to come!”

 

“What? No,” she replies a little more firmly than she would have liked, but it gets her point across. She turns her son around by his shoulders and guides him into the room and over to his bed, she pulls back the covers and watches him get in. “We’ll speak about this in the morning, Henry. I’m far too tired to even begin to think about all of this.” She pulls the blankets over to cover him, and she leans down to kiss his forehead ever so gently, “I love you. Sleep tight, my little prince.”

 

It’s suddenly the early hours of the morning, and Regina can still hear the rain pounding off the roof of the house, as she pours through an endless amount of family albums she and Henry made together. There are photos upon photos, all positioned and organised in the right places, throughout the years, and she’s stopped in the album Emma arrived into town. There are hardly any photos of them, there are a few of Henry, on his birthday, Christmas, and other holidays, but none of them feature her, she supposes Henry didn’t want to be in pictures with her at that time. However, there is one photo, and it’s the photo that the Mirror took of herself, Henry and Emma when Emma was elected Sherriff of Storybrooke. It was something she so strongly fought about, she did not want to be in a picture with Emma, but somehow she gave in, probably because Henry asked her to, but she did, and now, she has to admit that it’s one of her favourite photos. It’s one of the photos she found herself looking at when Emma and Henry weren’t there, even back in the Enchanted Forest, since she transported all of her things over there with her. In the photo, Emma looks so happy, so smug that she finally won something over Regina, and there’s a little knowing look in her eye, because she’s staying. Regina looks angry, angry at the fact that her son’s birth mother is in her town, and staying for God knows how long, but there’s something else, something underneath, something she’s hiding, she looks almost as if she’s enjoying it.

 

She hasn’t retired to bed yet, only because she can’t seem to be able to silence the voices in her head; looking at photos is a way she helps herself take her mind off things, only this time, it isn’t working. They’re telling her what to do about this entire situation, about Emma and Henry, and about her baby, and everything else she has on her mind. She’s pregnant, and Emma and Henry are here, and she mixed up the potions so that Henry now has his memories back and Emma doesn’t, and Emma is engaged, and Henry is claiming it’s true love—it’s all too much for her to take and she honestly doesn’t know what to do, about anything. The Emma and Henry situation is just something she’s going to have to go along with, something she’s going to accept, even if she doesn’t want to, because what else can she do? She always had her suspicions that Emma liked woman, as well as men, but she wasn’t exactly certain, she supposes she now has confirmation, and she can’t help but feel like this Anna girl doesn’t deserve Emma at all, even though they haven’t met. But Regina can’t focus on that, she needs to deal with one problem at a time, and the baby situation is something that has been lingering on her mind all day.

 

The voices about the baby are being extremely contradictory—one of them is telling her to get rid of him, the other is telling her to keep him. If she were to abort Henry’s little brother, she would never forgive herself, even if it were for the best, but Regina really doesn’t see how getting rid of a baby would benefit her life at all—it seems selfish to her, she has the means to raise this baby, just like she did with Henry. She’s always wanted a baby, her own baby, but Henry was more than enough, Henry is the most perfect son she could have ever wished for, even if he isn’t biologically her son, and even if they went through a few rough patches in the past, he’s still perfect in her eyes. And maybe that’s a problem, Regina knows she places Henry high on a pedestal, because he’s her son, she raised him, she made him who he is today and she’s terribly proud of that fact. No one else raised Henry to be this wonderful, loving, caring, kind young man, apart from Regina herself. Emma, Snow, Charming, they had absolutely nothing to do with that. She raised him, and he’s her son. So why on earth can’t this baby be exactly the same as that? She has no idea; she doesn’t understand why she feels so detached to this baby, why she feels so unconnected to him. She supposes she’ll just have to wait it out, and hope that she’ll eventually feel some sort of bond for him. She loves this baby, she really does, with all her heart, but she just can’t put her finger on why she feels so odd.

 

Regina has never really thought about ever giving a baby up if she were to fall pregnant, because the sheer possibility of her even being able to conceive is so small, or that’s what her mother used to tell her, and this was quickly confirmed when she couldn’t give Leopold another child. Regina actually wanted to supply him with one, a boy, an heir to the throne, because then maybe he’d be willing to love her just a little bit more, just like he loved Eva. But once Leopold recognised Regina wasn’t as fertile as she was supposed to be, he had the law changed in the kingdom, so that a Queen could rule without her husband, and so that a Princess could also become Queen without a husband. Of course, this was all to benefit Snow, however, with Regina’s plans in place, she tweaked it so that it would benefit herself instead. She would kill Leopold, she would kill him and then she would take over the throne, and take over the kingdom, sway the people’s opinions about her and reign gracefully as Queen until she died. Then, only then, could Snow have the throne.

 

There’s a creek in the floorboards upstairs, and she hears someone tiptoeing down, she’s hoping it’s Henry, so that she and him can speak a little more, hear about what they’ve both been up to without each other, but on the other hand, she hopes he’s sound asleep in his bedroom—he’s not a very good morning person. She slowly turns her head to the doorway, and rolls her eyes when she sees a nest of blonde, messy hair before she even sees Emma’s body. She turns her head back around, and quickly shuts the photo album—she doesn’t want Emma to see, because Henry is in almost every single one of them.

 

“Oh,” she mumbles, clearly half asleep. “Sorry… can’t sleep and I’m thirsty.”

 

“Don’t apologise, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

 

Regina watches as Emma makes her way around the island to face Regina, “You okay?” Emma shoves the sleeves of her shirt—the one she was wearing this afternoon—up to her elbows, and Regina motions to the cupboard she keeps her glasses in. As Emma turns to open it, reach for a glass and get it out, Regina’s eyes travel down from the back of Emma’s head to the back of her thighs—she isn’t wearing anything but the shirt, and it’s hiked up slightly to reveal a white pair of cotton panties. It reminds Regina of the time when Emma first arrived in town, Regina personally delivered a basket of apples over to Emma’s hotel room, and for some reason, Emma opened the door with her signature white tank top and a pair of bright red cotton panties, much like the ones she’s wearing now. She almost finds it odd that Emma feels so comfortable in her underwear around Regina, although she supposes she wasn’t exactly planning on seeing anyone while she got a glass of water, but still, Emma doesn’t seem fazed by the situation in the slightest, on the other hand, Regina definitely is.

 

The older woman takes a moment before answering to compose herself, “yes, I’m fine, dear. Thank you for your concern.”

 

Emma motions to the almost empty wine glass sitting in front of Regina, “thought you were pregnant?”

 

“I—” She’s ashamed, “yes I am.”

 

“Huh,” Emma leans on the island. “Wouldn’t’ve pinned you as a pregnancy drinker, Madam Mayor. You seem much more classier than that,” there’s a touch of sarcasm in the last sentence, but Regina lets it slide.

 

“I’m not, a pregnancy drinker I mean.”

 

“So you think you’re classy?” She waits for a reply, but Regina just lifts an eyebrow. Emma laughs slightly, “It’s not bad, you know? I think a glass a month’s alright, something like that anyway, that’s what I’ve heard.”

 

“Possibly, I just have a lot on my mind at the moment. I thought a small glass of wine would maybe help me sleep.”

 

“Did it?” Regina watches as Emma’s eyes very quickly drop to her own chest, the nightgown she’s wearing isn’t revealing per se, but it reveals more than she does on a regular basis, and Regina feels her cheeks flushing.

 

“No,” she dips her head to the photo album, trying to hide her face. “Not yet.”

 

“What do you have on your mind?” Emma grabs an apple from the fruit basket in the middle of the island, and takes a large bite, watching Regina. It’s almost ironic that Emma—Snow White and Prince Charming’s daughter—is eating a red apple in the middle of The Evil Queen’s kitchen; however, Emma has absolutely no idea about any of that, so Regina supposes she’s just hungry.

 

“I thought you said no personal business were to be discussed?”

 

“Out of hours,” she shrugs.

 

“Indeed,” she pauses. “Oh and by all means, make yourself at home. Would you like a piece of fruit?”

 

“Ha. So, what’s up?”

 

Regina rolls her eyes, “nothing is ‘up’, Ms. Swan. I don’t want to talk to you, please go back to bed, I have things to do.”

 

“At two am? Sure. So, are you scared? For the birth and stuff, I mean.”

 

Regina lets out an over exasperated sigh, “no, well… a little.”

 

“Because of your son, or?”

 

“Again, Ms. Swan, I said a little. I am in no way comfortable in elaborating on that subject for you.”

 

“I’ve lost people too, not a child, but… y’know, you just gotta keep on going, whatever happens. It’s hard but… life’s fucking hard. It must have killed you, I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose a kid…”

 

“Well, unfortunately I’ve experienced it, but I’ve lost a lot of people in my life. I’m almost… used to it,” but she isn’t. She isn’t used to it at all. She expects it, of course, she’s The Evil Queen and she doesn’t deserve anything good in her life, but she will never get used to losing anyone she cares about.

 

“Yeah, I’ve lost people too. Life’s crazy, but it all works out in the end.”

 

“For some.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t see why it won’t work out for you though. I mean… who wouldn’t want to date you? You’re successful, you have a big house, you’re like… beautiful, by the way, and yeah. You’ve got everything going for you.”

 

“I’m afraid you have me all wrong, Ms. Swan, I’m not looking to date anybody right now.”

 

“No?”

 

“No.”

 

“So, you’re gonna be a single mom, huh?”

 

“Yes, I suppose I am.”

 

“We have that in common, then.”

 

“We do.”

 

“So," Emma starts, and points to the photo album sitting in front of Regina. As soon as Emma's eyes look at it, Regina places her hand on top of it protectively, as if she's worried that Emma can see right through the cover. "What were you looking at in that book?”

 

“Old pictures, of my son and me.”

 

“Can I see?”

 

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Regina says, as she brings the album closer to herself.

 

“Okay. I’m gonna ask you a few questions, since you seem to know my entire life story…”

 

“Ask away. I am entitled to not answer, though.”

 

“I’m guessing you and your fiancé raised your son?”

 

There’s a small pause, and Regina licks her lips, “no. I adopted Hen— adopted Harry after he…died.”

 

“You adopted?” Emma looks to Regina and she nods, “I was so close to giving Henry up for adoption, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to support him… and I was eighteen, so not ready to have a baby… and I was a foster kid, I experienced all that and I didn’t want Henry to go through it. I knew it was gonna be a struggle, but,” she takes another bite of the apple and continues to speak, “I pulled through somehow and here he we are.”

 

“He’s a lovely boy, you must be so…" she swallows. "Proud," because I am too, she wants to add, but doesn't.

 

“I am. How did you two meet?”

 

“Daniel and I? Oh, that’s a long and boring story, I’m sure you don’t want to know that.”

 

“Aw c’mon, tell me.”

 

“He was my family’s stable boy.”

 

“Stable boy?”

 

“I used to ride horses, and he used to tend to the stables. My mother didn’t approve of me dating anyone below my social status, so it was a secret love affair, until she found out. He and I had planned to run away, my mother was extremely strict, you see, and she would have never warmed to him. On the night we were about to run away together, my mother found out, and stopped us. When Daniel left, that’s when the accident happened, and my mother, she didn’t even care.”

 

“Man, that’s rough…”

 

“And then I married a man my mother wanted me to marry, he was older than me, and I was only young at the time. He died tragically too, and then I moved here, to get away from everything, and adopted Hen— Harry… my mother died and then, he— well, he…”

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

 

Regina doesn’t reply, so Emma follows with, "I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep either then?”

 

“I haven’t tried.”

 

“Why? Afraid I’ll leave in the middle of the night and never come back?” Regina locks eyes with Emma, that’s exactly what she’s afraid of, but not for the reasons Emma believes. “Oh. You do know there are other people who’ll help you find her, right?”

 

“Yes, but they’re not you.”

 

“Why are you so insistent on having me do this job? You’ve been singing my praises since I got here.”

 

“I like you. We’re similar, yet completely different at the same time. It’s hard to explain. I feel like you’ll get the job done.”

 

“Because I need the money?”

 

“Partly, yes, but I think you’ll learn to like this town.”

 

“I’m not here to see the town.”

 

“I know.”

 

There’s a moment of silence where both of them are free to contemplate what’s going on, to take some time to organise their thoughts. Regina’s happy that she and Emma are moving forward, Emma’s voice isn’t raised, and Regina isn’t on the defensive, although she still is a little wary of saying the wrong things—she’s almost slipped up with Henry’s name a few times, and she cannot afford for that to happen again. The older woman watches subtly as Emma continues to take bite after bite of the apple, until it’s down to the core, and she throws it in the trash, it’s really just an excuse to watch Emma’s lips, but Regina won’t verbally admit that. There’s something about Emma, even though she isn’t herself, that’s drawing Regina in, and always has drawn her in from the very beginning. She’s almost nothing like her mother, although there are a few similarities, but Emma is strong, and usually withdrawn from any emotion, she doesn’t like people seeing her crack, just like Regina doesn’t. She and Emma are like two sides of the same coin, extremely similar, yet completely different at the same time, and Regina can’t put her finger on why this is so interesting to her.

 

“I feel like I know you somehow, is that weird?”

 

Regina’s eyes drift down to study Emma’s ring for another moment, but then lifts her head to look at the blonde as she speaks, “no. Not at all, I feel it too.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Really.”

 

“This just feels… comfortable? Like I’ve known you for years.”

 

Regina smiles, albeit sadly, but she tries to hide it, “maybe we knew each other in another life.”

 

“Yeah, maybe… so, why do you think I'll like the town?”

 

“You’ll see soon enough,” Regina slides down from her seat up at the island and pulls the photo album into her arms. She wraps them protectively around it, and watches Emma carefully, she’s going to have to make sure she doesn’t see where she puts it, so Emma can’t snoop around to find it. “You should get some sleep,” she advises. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

 

“You should too, Madam Mayor.”

 

“Regina, please call me Regina.”

 

“Okay… Regina," Emma smiles slightly. "But you gotta call me Emma, none of that Ms. Swan crap you were using earlier.”

 

Regina nods, “goodnight… Emma.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the longest chapter so far. I just wanted to say thank you for all of the views, comments and kudos again. I really appreciate them. I also wanted to thank the person/people who submitted my name and this story in for Best New Author and Best Unfinished Fic in the Swan Queen Awards (even though I'm not sure it's even still running). I've just been made aware of it, and I can't thank you enough. Enjoy this extremely early update!

“Snow." It's the morning, and to Regina's surprise, she awoken to the sound of her alarm clock, and not to the pounding rain on the roof of her house. The rain seems to have disappeared, and replaced with one of the most glorious days Storybrooke has seen in months. "It’s me.” Regina cuts off whatever greeting Snow is about to say; there isn’t time to be cordial. It's six am, and to be perfectly honest, she's exhausted—she only managed to get a little under three hours of sleep last night, and she's currently about to break (possibly) the worst news Snow could ever here, right now. “What I’m about to say is extremely important, and you must listen to every word I say, before you make a decision or form an opinion, do you understand?”

 

She’s hesitant. “I suppose so? Yes.”

 

Regina takes a breath. Here she goes. “Emma and Henry showed up at my door yesterday,” Regina can hear Snow start to say something, but again, she talks over her. “There is a reason why they’re here, but at the moment, that isn’t central to this conversation. Basically, Neal sent me a memory potion for Emma to drink to get her memories back. Unfortunately, I mixed up the hot chocolates and in turn, Henry actually got his memories back, instead of Emma. Henry remembers everything and Emma does not. I need you and Charming to convince the town to act as if you don’t know who either of them are, I need everyone to act like strangers, because if Emma finds out… or she becomes suspicious… then I’m almost certain she will leave and never return to Storybrooke.”

 

It’s a lot of information to take in, and Regina waits for Snow to instruct her to say it again, but she doesn’t. Snow lets out a small whimper, “Emma… Emma’s back?”

 

Regina closes her eyes. She can feel a headache coming on, and she’s not sure whether it’s because of this situation, or because of the lack of sleep she got last night. “Yes, so is Henry.”

 

“But Emma doesn’t remember us?” She’s frantic. “She doesn’t remember anyone?” The hope in her voice has understandably vanished, and Regina refrains from suggesting that she knows how Snow feels. There’s some part of her that does know how Snow feels, because she too lost a child for the time they’ve been here, and Henry arrived with absolutely no memory of Regina. Until she made the mistake.

 

“I’m afraid not, Snow. I’m sorry.” It’s genuine. “But I really do need your help. I don’t want Emma to leave, because she’ll take Henry. They can’t leave.”

 

Snow’s voice is an octave lower, and there’s a hint of betrayal. “You… you did this on purpose.” There’s a slight inflection at the end, as if she’s not even sure herself of what she’s saying, and Regina picks up on that. She’s lashing out at the only person who understands.

 

“Snow, dear,” it’s barely a whisper, but she’s certain that Snow is able to hear her. “You know I wouldn’t do something like this on purpose, not now.”

 

“Do I?” It’s accusatory. “You have Henry.”

 

But Regina doesn’t have Henry, at least, not as she used to. Henry’s memories may have returned, but both Regina and Snow know that there is no way in hell Emma would be alright with Henry calling Regina “mom”. In Emma’s eyes, they’re complete strangers to one another—albeit believes Henry has a major crush on Regina, but she chooses to ignore that information. “I don’t, not fully,” and Regina knows Snow understands that. She and Snow understand each other, they always have, and Regina knows that Snow is intentionally blaming her, because she doesn’t know what to do with this sudden influx of feelings.

 

“Regina…”

 

It’s the best solution Regina can think of: “you don’t have to see her.” She supposes that if Snow doesn’t actually see Emma in the flesh, until her memories come back, then it won’t seem as real as it actually is, and she wouldn’t have to suffer through it. “If that helps.”

 

It doesn’t come immediately, but Regina eventually hears a small “no. I want to see her” on the other end of the call. She lets out a sigh of relief that she didn’t know even she was holding.

 

“Everyone should return to their Storybrooke identities, including us, but of course… there’s no curse this time, so there are plenty of opportunities for slip–ups. We must be extremely careful. I think… if you two explain the situation, and inform everyone of what they are to do, and then it will all go as smoothly as possible. If you mention my participation in this, I’m afraid they may not feel obliged to partake, so please, make it seem as if you and Charming have thought of this solution.”

 

“Okay.” She sounds nervous; “we can do that, for Emma and Henry.”

 

Regina is hoping everyone will comply with the rules Snow and Charming are going to set in place, in fact, she has no doubt about it that they will, because the town will do almost anything for them. It’s one of the many things that irks Regina about the two, their people will always be loyal, even when someone else is supposed to rule them. But she pushes that to the side, and focuses on the task at hand—they need to get their memories back, and to do that, they need to get Emma’s back too. “Thank you.”

 

They both assume that they’re about to say their goodbyes, but then Snow cuts in with a question that almost winds Regina: “how’s the baby?” In fact, for an hour or so, she’d forgotten all about the baby. Overwhelming feelings of guilt wash over her, and she sighs slightly.

 

“He’s…” she pauses. She doesn’t know what to say. The baby is fine, as far as she knows, but Regina isn’t. Regina isn’t fine. “He’s okay. His mother, on the other hand, is…” she’s scared to say it, but she forces herself to. “Barely coping. This situation with Emma and Henry and… it’s all too much. I’m just so glad you’re going to help. I think… I may need to visit Dr. Hopper, just to talk about all of this.” She would never usually open up to Snow this much, but she feels like she needs to get it off her chest. There’s no way she’s going to be able to see Archie today, so speaking to Snow is almost like her therapy.

 

Regina almost hears Snow nod ardently, “I think that’s a really good idea, Regina.”

 

“I’ll think about it,” and she’s also thinking about backing out of that idea already. “Please keep me updated on the status of the operation,” she adds, and once Snow agrees, they say their goodbyes and hang up the phone. There’s a small amount of trepidation that Snow won’t follow through with the plan, even though Snow isn’t like that at all, but it’s still running through Regina’s mind as if it’s a real possibility.

 

Regina decides to begin cooking breakfast, in order to distract herself from thinking – about what was about to happen – too much, and also to wait for Henry and Emma to wake up—eggs benedict and Parma ham on home—made English muffins with a good dollop of hollandaise sauce would most definitely get them both out of bed. She makes note of the time (it’s only eight am), and reminds herself to wake Henry up before Emma does, so that she doesn’t find an empty bedroom where Henry is supposed to be. Before she knows it, she hears someone bundling down the stairs as if something is wrong; Henry slides into the kitchen and sits up at the island.

 

Regina follows him with her eyes, and then arches a brow. “What have I said about running down the stairs? You’re going to hurt yourself one day, and your injuries won’t be pretty.”

 

“Morning, mom.” He grabs the glass of orange juice already set out for him, and sips it.

 

She sighs slightly, and turns her focus to the eggs—“good morning.”

 

“I’m up before Emma is,” he takes a deep breath in and smells the food. He hums softly in appreciation and Regina’s sure she hears his stomach rumble.

 

“Indeed you are. Hungry?”

 

“Yup,” is all he responds with before he moves onto a different subject. He writes his name on the condensation of the glass in front of him. “So I’ve been thinking about all of this. What if Mary Margaret and David kiss? That’s true love, and they’re Emma’s parents, so it makes sense that that could help her get her memories back.”

 

“Do you really think Mary Margaret and David haven’t kissed since you two have been here?”

 

“Well…” he shrugs. “Maybe they haven’t?”

 

Regina blanches at the thought. “I doubt it.”

 

“Who’s your true love, mom?”

 

“You know that, sweetheart. Daniel.” It’s intrusive, but she doesn’t mind. Regina has spoken to Henry about Daniel a few times, they’ve discussed it before, about how good of a man he was, and how she wouldn’t be the person she is today if it weren’t for him. Regina’s not entirely sure why he asked that question.

 

“So,” he pauses. He looks like he’s thinking about what to say. “Do you only get one?”

 

Ah. It clicks. That’s why he asked. “I suppose so.”

 

“Well…” he grins. “You have me.”

 

She laughs. “I do. You’re all I need.” Henry always manages to make her feel happy, whatever mood she’s in. She plates up both of their breakfasts, and doesn’t plate one up for Emma, because he insists she won’t be up until “about ten”, but just in case, she leaves Emma’s in the oven on a low heat, so that it won’t get cold. “I think we’ll go to Granny’s for lunch today, if that’s okay with you. I’m going to show Emma the bed and breakfast, and she can get a hotel room if she wants to.”

 

“No,” Henry starts. The look in his eyes turns Regina’s heart into mush. “I want to stay here. Can’t we just stay here? I want to sleep in my own bed, and I want to be with you, mom…”

 

“I—” She sighs, and looks down to her food. “Henry, it isn’t that easy. This entire situation is undeniably complicated, and I’m trying my hardest to spend time with you, without Emma finding out. I will do my best, but you’ll have to voice your opinion to her also. I love you, but I can’t risk pushing Emma too much that she takes you back to New York. I can’t risk it.”

 

“She won’t!” He’s adamant. His face is flushed and he’s sitting up in his chair like his life depends on this moment. It warms Regina that he wants to stay and be close to her, but it’s probably not going to possible. Emma will surely want her own space, her own room, and Regina’s not even sure whether the two of them packed a bag with extra clothes in. “I’ve missed you so much.”

 

“She’s engaged, Henry. She’s most likely going to leave, if we don’t get her memories back soon, and even if she does, she may love this woman too much to stay here in Storybrooke. Love makes you do stupid things. But, your grandmother and I have devised a plan to make sure that everyone treats you two like strangers, so that Emma won’t get suspicious. We’re going to use as much time as we can, so that we can get her memories back, and maybe even get ours back too. I know it’ll be hard for you, but it’s what’s best. For now. Emma’s going to meet Snow and Charming there, and hopefully, there won’t be too much of a fuss over her return.”

 

He looks defeated and offers a quiet “okay”, before continuing to eat his food. They eat in silence for a little while, until Regina sparks up a conversation about what he did in New York. She wants to hear everything, absolutely everything, down to the very last detail about his life there, because she’s genuinely interested, and a part of her wants to know more about this Anna he spoke of last night. Thankfully, Emma doesn’t manage to wake up until after eleven (she blames it on the late night), which gives Regina and Henry time to talk about all of the things Regina missed out on: school, girls, the pizza, Emma… and everything else Regina wanted to know about.

 

Once Emma is up and downstairs, dressed for the day, Regina tells her of her plan to take them for lunch, and to also show them the bed and breakfast. Emma agrees to it, but seems hesitant about the idea of sleeping somewhere else—perhaps it’s the softness of the bed, Regina thinks. Once they’ve parked up at Granny’s, Regina spots Pongo running over to Henry before she spots his owner. Archie is standing on the other side of the street, shouting Pongo’s name.

 

“Keep that dog on his lead, Dr. Hopper.” She’s complaining, but she really does secretly love Pongo, and he loves her. She makes her way over to the dog, and bends down to stroke his head. “Hi, puppy.”

 

Archie’s eyes are fixed on Emma. “Of course, Mayor Mills. Sorry about that.”

 

“Can I play with Pongo for a bit?” His head cranes to Regina.

 

“Of course you can, Henry. If that’s okay with your mother.” Regina takes a quick look back at the blonde, who nods. “Emma and I are going to go inside, Henry, we’ll meet you in there in a few minutes.” Before standing, she doesn’t forget to shoot Archie a warning look for staring so blatantly at Emma. She hears him mumble a “sorry” after she turns on her heel and heads inside with the blonde.

 

“That kid baffles me sometimes,” Emma’s hands reach up to pull her hair into a loose ponytail.

 

Regina frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“He knew that dog’s name right off the bat. It’s like he’s met him before.”

 

“Oh, no.” Regina swallows slightly. “Henry expressed his… his interest in getting a dog to me this morning, and I told him about Archie’s. Pongo is extremely obedient, and the last person he would hurt is a child. There’s no need to worry.”

 

“Shit, he wants a dog?”

 

“Apparently so.” Regina looks up, because as soon as they enter the diner, the entire room goes silent, and Regina forces herself not to roll her eyes. Does anybody in this town follow instruction? Thankfully, they all begin to talk, probably about The Evil Queen and The Saviour being together, but at least there’s some noise in the place. Immediately, Regina spots Snow and Charming jump up and make their way over. Regina looks to Emma, and says softly, “there’s two people I’d like you to meet before we eat. They’re friends. They know about Zelena.” And as soon as Regina finishes her sentence, Snow is standing right in front of Emma, looking at her expectantly.

 

“Hi…” Snow offers a shaky hand for Emma to take, they join hands, and Snow is desperately trying to hide the sadness in her eyes. “I–I’m Mary Margaret, it’s lovely to meet you.” She bows her head slightly, and reluctantly lets go of her daughter’s hand. Regina watches from the sidelines, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around Snow and reassure her that everything will be okay. She’s still the young Princess Regina once saved from the wild horse, she’s still the young girl whose hair she used to braid every night, and she’s still the young woman she tried to hurt too many times. Regina can’t forget that, but she doesn’t move to comfort Snow; she doesn’t even flinch when the sadness again washes over Snow’s face she glances towards Regina, and steps back to hold her Prince’s hand.

 

With a hand still entwined with Snow’s, Charming steps forward. “David,” he shakes Emma’s hand with his free one, and looks right into her eyes. This handshake lasts longer than the last, and Regina can see the confusion building on Emma’s face as Charming weakly lets go of her hand, and returns back to Snow’s side. His thumb brushes comfortingly over the back of Snow’s hand, and his focus jumps from Emma to Regina, waiting for someone, anyone, to disrupt the silence. Regina gently clears her throat, and watches Emma as she follows suit, shoots a quizzical glance toward Regina, and returns to her side, just as Charming had done with Snow moments prior.

 

Emma swallows audibly; her voice is stiff and awkward. “It’s uh… yeah, it’s nice to meet you too…?” The inflection in her voice is like a bullet which hits both of her parents right in the stomach, she’s recognisably confused to as why she’s meeting them, but that tips both of them over the edge. Snow’s eyes begin to fill up with tears, and Charming looks away, squeezing her hand to inform her that they should leave now, but they don’t. The two of them move over to another table, sit down and stare blankly, and silently, at their menus.

 

The possibility of Emma realising who her parents are, or even just recognising them, flickers through Regina’s mind like an old movie. She worries silently that soon, Emma’s going to understand that she isn’t here to complete a job, she’s here because she belongs here, and even though that isn’t particularly a bad thing, it could obliterate the plan into a thousand pieces. If she feels like she belongs here, she could begin to investigate why that is, and continue talking (unknowingly) to her parents, to get to know them a little better, and if she were to do that, Regina’s sure that Snow and Charming would eventually slip. She wonders whether Emma feels the same way with them, as she did last night with Regina, “comfortable”, as she put it, as if she’s “known them for years”.

 

As the two migrate to a booth, they both sit and look down to study the menu. Regina notes that Emma’s posture changes drastically, before, she was rigid and awkward, but now, she’s slouching slightly and it looks as if she’s a lot more comfortable than she was thirty seconds ago. Regina wants to inquire about this, about how she’s feeling, but Regina knows if she pushes that conversation, then they’ll drift into another one, of which she’s not entirely prepared to handle.

 

Emma hums slightly, “so who are they again?”

 

“Mary Margaret and David?” The blonde nods enthusiastically, and glances over to the pair, who are irresponsibly looking in their direction. “They’re… friends. We’ve all known each other for a very long time, we’re close… but not too close, a little bit like… family, I suppose. The reason they wanted to meet you is that I informed them of what we’re trying to achieve, with my sister, and they knew I was trying to track you down, so that I could work with the best of the best.”

 

A small laugh erupts from Emma’s mouth, “the best of the best, huh?” Regina silently scolds herself for feeding Emma’s ego; it’s just like adding more paper to the flames. “So, is anything good here?”

 

Regina’s eyes look back down to the menu. “Everything’s fairly decent, you can’t really choose a bad meal here. Granny prides herself on the quality of her food. However, I make a much better lasagne.” There’s a proud grin plastered across her face, as if she’s won the contest on the best lasagne in town, when that’s not the case, but if she were to enter a competition, both she and Granny know that Regina would win it without a doubt.

 

“Oh yeah?” There’s a smirk on Emma’s lips, “well you’re gonna have to treat me to that one day while we’re here. Henry and I love lasagne.”

 

Regina resists the urge to reply with “I know” and replaces it with “I will”. Before she gets the chance to continue looking at the menu, she spots Ruby, in her red short shorts and high heels, out of the corner of her eye. Regina can’t help but smile every time she sees Ruby, because she personally assigned Ruby’s wardrobe for her when she cast the Dark Curse, thus she’s responsible for every outfit Ruby has ever worn. In one way, she’s surprised Granny hasn’t taken it upon herself to ban some of the clothes Ruby wears (Granny isn’t one for intentional indecency), but in another way, Regina isn’t surprised at all. Granny Lucas is a smart woman, and she understands that a lot of the customers frequent the diner due to Ruby’s unique style and personality. Everyone wants to be served by Ruby, she’s extremely good at her job; she knows every single one of her customers and their usual orders off by heart. It also must be noted that a few of the customers take interest in Ruby, because of the array of clothing she chooses to wear, it’s natural, she is breathtakingly beautiful, but she’s one of the smartest, if not the smartest (excluding Regina), people in the town.

 

“Madam mayor, Em—” Ruby stutters slightly, and Regina feels her eyes narrow in the girl’s direction. “And… new… person. Hi, I’m Ruby.”

 

Emma’s eyes dilate as she turns her attention to Ruby. She subtly arches her brow, “hey. Emma”, and chooses to look at the menu than ogle over the waitress. “Damn, it’s cheap in here. Ever been to New York? I feel like I’ll have to rob a bank every time I buy a slice of pizza.”

 

Ruby shakes her head, clearly bothered. “I haven’t. But I’d love to go, I really want to travel, see this world… I’ve never been outside of this town… kinda,” she shoots a you–know–what–I–mean look over to Regina, and the mayor just rolls her eyes. “The usual, Madam Mayor?”

 

“Yes, Ruby.” She hands her menu over, “thank you” and directs her attention towards Emma. Regina wants nothing more than Ruby to leave as fast as she can, because if she doesn’t, she’s pretty sure that Emma will either pounce on her or make a terribly embarrassing move.

 

“And for you, Emma?”

 

“I’ll have,” she pauses as if there’s any other choice but her own, “a burger and fries with a strawberry ‘shake. The kid’ll have the same, but with a chocolate ‘shake. Thanks.”

 

Before she leaves, Ruby scribbles a few things on her notepad, and takes Emma’s menu—“coming right up!”

 

Emma watches her leave, to Regina’s dismay, and then turns to the brunette. “She’s pretty,” she observes, “I like her.”

 

“I can tell.” It’s meant to be accusatory, she’s annoyed, but there’s an ounce of hurt somewhere in there. Regina doesn’t know why she feels hurt, she shouldn’t, really, it’s ridiculous, but she does.

 

“You know…” Regina resists the urge to interrupt and ask her what, in fact, does she know, but she keeps that for another time. Emma rests her chin in the palm of her hand, and taps the table with her fingernail. “This could be a date.”

 

Regina almost chokes, “a date!?” It comes out a little more surprised than she wanted it to, but she has absolutely no idea what Emma is thinking. This is most definitely not a date—burger and fries at Granny’s with their son? No. Not a date. Besides, if they were really on a date, Regina hopes it would be somewhere a little nicer than the diner, an expensive restaurant with a candlelit dinner sounds more appropriate. Emma would absolutely insist that she pay the bill, until Regina puts her foot down and claims that she should spend her well–earned money on something other than this ridiculously priced meal. Emma would insist – all the way home – on paying next time, and Regina would just roll her eyes and agree. Anything other than that, or that sort of situation, is not a date. “We have a child with us,” Regina points out and takes a small gulp of the water Ruby sets down on the table.

 

“Well, he isn’t here right now.”

 

“He’s still here, he’s just out playing with Pongo.”

 

Emma’s the one to roll her eyes this time. “Technically, it’s a date.”

 

Regina’s eyes glance over to catch Henry run into the diner, she makes a mental note to advise him to not run, and looks back over to Emma. Henry smiles and waves to Snow, Charming, Ruby and Grumpy, thankfully out of Emma’s eye line, and then makes his way over to the booth. Regina takes another sip of her water. “This is not a date, Ms. Swan.”

 

Henry nudges Regina (in the most polite way possible) over, so that he can sit next to her, and not Emma. “Soooo,” he emphasises. “What’s not a date?”

 

This is really not the time to be discussing such a thing, especially when they son is sitting right here, so Regina chooses not to speak. She saw the sadness in his eyes earlier, when he waved to the people he usually could talk to freely, Regina could tell he wanted to go over and give his grandparents a hug. It pains her to know that he can’t, all because of her idiotic mistake of mixing up the hot chocolates. Even though this situation is beneficial for her, she gets to bond with Henry, rather than having him not know her, she unintentionally made it worse for everyone else, and that’s eating her away inside.

 

“Nothing, kid.”

 

Regina brings her bottom lip between her two teeth, and she blurts out, “I suppose it could be, if you weren’t engaged, that is.”

 

Emma’s brow furrows. It’s as if she’s just remembering that piece of information about herself, and it brings Regina back home to the situation at hand. They’ve been flirting, or talking flirtatiously, she doesn’t know how to separate the two, but it’s there, and it’s happening. Of course, there’s always been banter between the two of them, but this, this is different, and it feels different. Maybe it’s because of Emma’s fake memories, and the question flitting through Regina’s mind is: would this even be happening if Emma knew who she really was? Probably not is her conclusion.

 

“Wait,” Henry pulls a face. His hand rises to make a point, “were you two talking about dating… each other?”

 

“No,” they both answer. It’s a lie, but they silently agree that Henry doesn’t need to know that. In Regina’s corner, it would only confuse him and the entire situation further. In Emma’s corner, Henry knows Emma is engaged, and in Regina’s opinion, he believes it’s true love—she’s sure Emma doesn’t want to crush that fantasy. Regina turns to look at Henry; he’s leaning forward and eyeing his mom suspiciously, sucking on the straw of his milkshake, and she can’t help but smile sweetly and avert her eyes. Thankfully, Ruby makes her way over with their food, and they all begin to eat.

 

“So,” Emma has a mouthful of her burger. “I’ve been through all the data I could get about your sister. There’s no trace of her anywhere, no credit cards, no phone bills, no mortgages, nothing. It’s almost as if she doesn’t exist,” Emma looks at her accusingly. There’s a small pang of worry in Regina’s stomach, which makes her think that Emma believes she’s lying—but the frustrating this is, is that she’s not. “Are you sure her name is Zelena Mills?”

 

Regina swallows her food first to make a point. “No. As I said before, this information is all new to me. I’ve been told her name is Zelena, and I assume she uses Mills because that’s my family name, but I’m not entirely certain. I suppose she could be using a completely different name all together, but I doubt it. There’s really nothing in your records?”

 

“Nothing,” Emma says patiently. “Nothing that would help, anyway.”

 

“Oh.” Regina stops eating, and looks straight at Emma. “So, there’s no hope in finding her?”

 

“There’s always hope.” Something she must have learned from her mother. “We just have to keep looking. Is there anything else you can think of, or is there any way you can get more information on her?”

 

She shakes her head, “I’m afraid not.” She’s telling the truth again, and she hopes Emma can see that; Jefferson spilled everything he had on Zelena, so it wouldn’t be beneficial to revisit him unless he had lied, and Regina’s sure he hadn’t. Besides, Regina had promised to help Grace (which she still needed to do) in return for the information—Jefferson wouldn’t pass on that. The only way Regina could acquire any other information is by remembering, by focusing on a way to bring all of their memories back, which wasn’t going to be easy. It would be a miracle if a solution appears out of the blue, but miracles don’t usually happen as often and as easily as they do in the Enchanted Forest. “Although…” she sparks up. “I do know almost every single person in this town, and if I were to see somebody I didn’t know, in… let’s say a town meeting where every resident must be in attendance, it must be my sister. Mustn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s a possibility, but if you’re wrong…”

 

Regina clicks her tongue, “I won’t be. I’m never wrong.” She feels Henry nudge her slightly and look up at her with knowing eyes, “most of the time.” They both laugh softly, it’s almost nice that they can laugh at some of her terrible mistakes. She ruffles his hair ever so slightly, and then makes sure to fix it, as to make sure it doesn’t look like he’s just rolled out of bed.

 

Emma frowns. “Regina,” the older woman braces herself for the question of why the hell was she ruffling Emma’s son’s hair. But it doesn’t come. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but… are you sure we’ve never met before?” Emma pauses, and Regina doesn’t know what to do. “I’m sure I’ve see you do that before, and I swear I’ve heard you two laugh together like that before.”

 

Henry watches Regina as she shakes her head. “I don’t believe we have, Emma, no.”

 

“But you said last night that you felt it too. You said you felt like you knew me.” Emma turns to scan over the people congregated in the diner, “I don’t feel like I know anybody else here. This is all new to me; they’re all new people. But you, us,” she motions to the three of them. “It kinda feels… right?”

 

Henry decides to cut in, “maybe magic brought us here”, and Regina gives him a little look as if she’s telling him to not push it. He silently apologises and goes back to eating his fries as fast as he can, because he’s so hungry.

 

“Sure, kid.” Emma laughs. “Come on, you’re thirteen. You know there’s no such thing as magic.”

 

In that moment, Regina is thrown back to hit the cushion of the chair. It feels as if an invisible wall smashes against her, as if she’s been hit by a car going one hundred miles an hour down the main street. The force of the wall is so strong that it winds her, and she finds herself grabbing onto the sleeve of Henry’s shirt to balance herself. Her head is spinning, it’s like she’s just woken up from a heavy night of drinking, and she feels so nauseous that she’s cautious that she might throw up into her lunch. She closes her eyes, as her entire body heats up, she’s flushed and her heart is beating so fast from the attack and from her sheer lack of confidence that this isn’t something serious. Her grip on Henry’s sleeve tightens, but she’s careful not to inflict any pain on her son, because that’s something she still thinks about when she’s in this much pain, all she thinks about is Henry’s safety. She wonders whether the others have been hurt, but the echoes of “Regina” and “are you okay” suggest otherwise, she’s the only one experiencing this. Her grip on Henry loosens, as she quickly becomes weaker, she feels as if she’s about to faint, and she can feel the colour draining from her face. She sits there, like this, eyes closed, head bowed, so she can focus on feeling better, rather than focusing on the pain.

 

Henry’s voice cracks, “mom…”

 

The hand, previously holding onto Henry, slides down to rest on her stomach. Questions about the baby flit through her mind. What if he’s hurt? What if something’s wrong? If she were to lose the baby, she would be devastated, and she would feel irrevocably responsible for it. But the idea of losing the baby pulls her through, she feels a little stronger, and she takes a deep breath.

 

“I— I’m fine…” She lifts her head, just for a moment. “Henry, I—”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update (I've been on holiday in America), but please enjoy this long update!

There’s a whisper, and it seems as if it's coming from the other side of the room, but Regina isn't entirely sure. "Do they think it’s the baby?” It says. It’s unmistakably familiar, she knows that much, but she can’t quite identify the voice the words are coming from. Her head feels a little muddled, hazy almost, and she also can't pinpoint her location. The room is dark, she can't make out anything apart from a few dim lights hanging from the ceiling (although she can't see them, she somehow knows they're there), and the only sounds she can hear are a few whispers now and again, and an eerily consistent beeping noise which sounds every second—without fail. "It isn't?"

 

“No”, is what follows—a new voice, Regina realises, it's a few octaves deeper than the previous one, a man maybe, and it too is also strangely familiar. The voices are quiet, and soft—one sounds upset, the other, sympathetic. It occurs to her that she's lying in a bed, it's cold, she is definitely is not in her own bed, because it wouldn't feel this uncomfortable. She can't be in the diner still, and she's not sure Henry and Emma are still around, because she knows she would have recognised their voices immediately, even if she does still feel confused. Her mind flickers in and out, she can't seem to hear the couple's whispers anymore, it's still dark, but now it's silent, and she doesn't like silence, she doesn't like being left with her own thoughts, and it's making her anxious. She isn't sure whether the two are even still in the room, or whether they've just finished their conversation, but the former seems more understandable.

 

Regina pulls the little strength she has together, and focuses solely on trying to locate or identify the voices in the room. "Oh," one of them speaks again, the first voice, but Regina doesn't know whether this is a response to the conversation she heard, or another one entirely. "Charming, I… I'm scared."

 

There's movement, and Regina's worried they might leave her here, so once again, she gathers up her strength and flickers her eyes open, adjusts to the light, and sees Snow and Charming standing at the other side of the room, enveloped in a tender hug. She can't help but roll her eyes, and feign slight irritancy. "Get a room," her voice cracks, it's quiet, rough, and she honestly doesn't sound like herself at all.

 

The two of them turn to look at her. They're in absolute awe. “Regina,” Snow finally says. She quickly rushes over to Regina's side, and places her hands on the side of the bed, (which Regina now realises is a hospital bed), where there's space. “You’re okay.”

 

Snow seems shocked. “Of course I’m okay,” Regina sits up a little, and intentionally pushes Snow's hands off the bed with her thigh. She hates people fussing over her, especially when she feels like there isn't a reason for them to be fussing. Of course, Regina still feels terribly weak—though she won't admit it—but she does feel a tiny bit better than she felt in the diner. She reacts as if nothing has happened: “why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“You…" Although Snow's hands have relocated to her lap, they're twitching slightly, and Regina assumes Snow is itching to have some sort of contact with her. "They don’t know what… what happened to you.” She reaches for Regina's hand, which the Queen allows her to take, mostly because she doesn't have the strength to move, but there's something inside her which likes the way Snow is acting toward her—she's worried, and not many people in this town would be worried about The Evil Queen's health.

 

Regina clears her throat, and looks over to her heart monitor. “Is the baby okay?” It's all she's worried about, she doesn't really mind about herself, of course she's a little worried, but her priority is her children, first and foremost. The heart monitor begins to beep a little faster in anticipation of Snow's answer, even if she thinks she heard them talking about it earlier, she can't be sure she was entirely conscious. “Yes, they said he’s fine.”

 

She smiles. It’s small, meek, and then she confidently says, “then I’m fine.” It’s not a logical conclusion, she may not be fine, but the baby is alright and that's all that matters at the moment. Regina feels a lot better, or so she’s telling herself, and she’ll be up and walking as soon as she can, because honestly, she can’t wait to get out of this God forsaken place. She needs to get out as soon as possible, she needs to find Henry and Emma, and continue on with the plan at hand.

 

“I don’t think that’s how it works," Charming chimes in and Regina, for once, doesn't roll her eyes at the Prince's comment. He has a fair point, and he seems to be looking out for her, but Regina just wants to leave and go home, see Henry and Emma, and focus on her plans for the day, rather than focusing on when she's going to be released from hospital.

 

“Nonsense,” she waves a hand in the air to brush it off. “Where’s Henry?” She watches closely as Snow and Charming turn their attention to each other, almost as if they’re deciding how to tell her something. Regina's entire body stiffens as she repeats, “where is Henry?” It’s firmer this time—a command, rather than a question, and the couple turns back to look at her. Disappointment is written across their faces, and she braces herself for news she's dreading to hear.

 

It feels like the air has been sucked from the room, and Regina's eyes are transfixed on Snow. “Emma…” she starts. She intertwines her fingers with Charming’s, for moral support, Regina assumes, and clears her throat. “She left… with Henry."

 

The beeps begin to sound closer than before; Regina’s heart is speeding up. "Shit," she wants to say, but she doesn't (although she definitely thinks it). Her chest tightens. “What?” She can't get any air into her lungs, her throat is closing up and the room is closing in on her. If Henry and Emma have left, back to New York, there's a real possibility she'll never see either of them again, and that's not okay with her, that shouldn't be okay with anyone.

 

Charming speaks again, and Regina listens closely to what he’s saying. “We think they left. Something must have… happened. They made sure you got to the hospital, made sure you were in the safest place you could be, we arrived with them from Granny's, and everything was fine. But then Emma and Henry… they were arguing over something, and they just disappeared. We didn’t see them leave, but…" he puts on his Prince Charming persona: "we will find them.”

 

She’s furious. "Save it." She looks away from them, to the other side of the room, and tightens her jaw. How could they be so stupid? How could they be so irresponsible? They've lost Emma so many times, and Regina's in sheer disbelief they would allow this to happen once again—it's as if they can't accomplish anything without Regina's help and guidance along the way. "You really let them leave?"

 

“Regina—”

 

“You really let your daughter and grandson walk out of your life, again?" She snarls. "How many times is that now? Four for Emma, two for Henry? Or is it more for Emma?” She shakes her head, looking back to them. "You two are pathetic. Think about how much we've all missed them; just think about it, and you… you watched them leave—again." She blinks away the tears forming in her eyes, brought on by a mix of frustration and anger, and takes a deep breath. Her eyes narrow. "When we sent them to New York," she shakes her head again, trying to contain herself. "When we sent them to New York, with new memories, we all still had hope they would come back, because it was a possibility, a small one, but it was still there. It was our flicker of light amidst the darkness of this second curse. But now? Now, there's next to no chance they will ever return, because you two idiots let her walk out of your life for the hundredth time."

 

“Henry’s a smart bo—”

 

She grits her teeth. “Don’t you dare talk to me about Henry right now, Snow, or I’ll…” Her hand curls into a fist and she closes her eyes. She’s suppressing the urge to throw a fireball at Snow's head for being so ridiculous. Why bring up Henry at a time like this? Regina quietens, she's lost him again. “Just… don’t.” She mumbles, and Snow backs off, stepping behind her Prince.

 

This time, just like the last, a part of Regina feels like she's losing two people, rather than just the one she initially thought she'd lost, and in the process of that, she's losing a part of herself too. Even though it seems, for the last few years, like she's gone out of her way to not get along with Emma, she's grown fond of her, and grown fond of the place she's taken in Henry's life. She slots in so perfectly to their little family, that it's like she was even there at the very beginning, and now that Emma has Regina's memories of Henry growing up, she knows what it was like at the beginning. It changes everything. Emma has changed everything. She's important, Regina understands that now. She's a big part of Henry's life (even if she does still feel a little threatened by her presence sometimes), and she's happy about that. They make a good team—'Team Mom' is what Henry calls them when they're fighting evil—and she can't help but agree that they're stronger together, just as Emma said when they defeated Pan. It's better for all of them when she and Emma aren't at each other's throats every second of the day, when Henry's two moms are on the same side, the Good side.

 

These past two days have been perfect, albeit a few mishaps, but nevertheless, they’ve felt perfect. There’s something about Emma that just makes Regina feel something she hasn't felt for a while—happy. She always manages to cheer her up, always manages to acknowledge when she's down, or when she's upset, and comforts her accordingly in her Emma-like way. The three of them, Regina, Emma and Henry, are a family, and they make Regina feel at home. Finally, a family which makes her feel good about herself, praises her and loves her, instead of one which pushed her to be someone she isn't. Emma and Henry embrace her, embrace who she is, and what she stands for. They still stand by her, for the most part, and she wishes that they were still in Storybrooke.

 

As if by magic, half of her wish comes true. Henry comes bundling through the glass doors, out of breath, and runs straight over to Regina's bedside, wrapping his arms around her as best as he can. "Mom," he sniffles. He's been crying. "You're okay. I thought…"

 

She lets out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and cradles his head with the palm of her hand. "I'm feeling better." Her eyes close as her voice cracks, but she pushes through it. "What are you doing here? Your grandparents told m—"

 

“—I love you.”

 

She laughs softly. "And I love you." He manages to make her smile, it spreads across her entire face, and her eyes twinkle. He's always been able to make her smile, since the moment she adopted him. She could be in the most terrible mood, and his smile, or his "I love you"s can instantly make her feel ten times better than she felt before. "More than all the worlds," she taps his nose gently with her index finger. She loves him deeply, so much more than she's ever loved anybody else, even more than Daniel, because the strength of a mother's love is something that can never be given to just anyone. "But what are you doing here?"

 

"I…" he swallows and pulls out of the hug. "Mom, I messed up."

 

She reaches out to brush a stray piece of hair from his forehead. "What do you mean, sweetheart?" She's not particularly worried. Whenever Henry gets himself into trouble, it's so infrequent and so insignificant that Regina doesn't necessarily need to worry that much. He's a good boy, a sensible boy, that's how she raised him, and that's how he still is, but she's never seen him look so guilty since he accidentally broke one of her favourite vases. Her eyes flicker over to his bag, which is bursting at the seams. "Where is Emma?"

 

Henry pulls the sleeve of his sweater up over his hand, and wipes his nose with it. "I messed up." Regina's hand instinctively moves to stop him, guiding it down gently to rest in his lap. Once settled there, he begins to pick at his nails, head hanging down to stare at his fingers. She rests a hand on top of his, once again, and gives him a knowing look. He always picks at his nails when he's nervous, but he has nothing to be nervous about, so she shoots him a warm smile, and brushes her thumb comfortingly over the back of his hand. He locks eyes with her. "I ran."

 

"You ran?" She sighs so softly that Henry doesn't even hear it. She knows what Emma must be going through, Henry ran from her when he found out he was adopted, and she was worried sick about him. Now, Emma is going through the same thing as she was, and Regina is ironically in Emma's place. It's as if they're living their first year of knowing each other in the other one's shoes. "I'm not mad, Henry, but I'm upset that you'd put Emma through that."

 

"I…" he stops. He tugs at a loose thread on the blanket on the bed, and chews on his lip. "I'm sorry but… I…" he swallows. His voice lowers, "I called you 'mom' at Granny's. Emma heard me. I… tried to lie, but her superpower… it's too strong. She knew I was lying."

 

Regina wants to cut in, to try and comfort him by telling him that "it's alright" and that they'd "figure it all out in due time", but she doesn't get a chance to speak. Henry's rambling, speaking far too fast, and stuttering her words out. His hands are writhing in front of him, "so… I told her. I told her everything. I told her about magic, about the curse, about The Enchanted Forest, and about her mom and dad, and about how you used to be evil but now you're just the Queen—and my mom too." He looks up to her. She's just watching, unsure of what to say, or what she can say in this situation. She squeezes his hand, as he continues, "and she still didn't believe me. She doesn't remember, mom. She thinks I'm crazy, she wants to get out of here, out of Storybrooke, but she can't." He stresses, and sighs. "I told her I was gonna get my backpack, and then I grabbed it and ran straight here. She can't leave, you can't let her. She'll make me go with her, and I… I don't want to leave again. This is my home, it's our home."

 

She's trying to process what happened, so all that follows is a soft "okay."

 

“I’m so sorry, I screwed up. I scre—”

 

"—Henry," she scolds. A scowl appears on her face as she silently curses Emma's bad mouth, "watch your language. You have clearly been spending too much time with your mother, and her vulgar language is rubbing off on you." It's not the first time she's called Emma mother out loud, but she smiles, because it's one of the first times she really means it. Emma's important.

 

"Sorry," he grumbles. "But it's Ma's fault."

 

She stifles a small laugh in response. ‘Ma’ must be his way of distinguishing between the two, and she thinks it suits Emma well. Her hand reaches out to brush his messy hair back off his face, and she takes a moment to study him. Henry looks a lot like Emma, they have multiple similarities; eyes, nose, mouth, and the infamous Snow White chin. She and Emma had once joked about where Henry's hair colour had originated from, of course, Regina had chosen the logical explanation—Snow. Emma disagreed, and suggested he had inherited it from Regina. Regina had just rolled her eyes, told her that was "impossible and ridiculous", but thanked the blonde for including her in the family. "Calm down," she gently takes his face into her hand and rubs his cheek with the palm of her thumb. "It was a mistake. I suppose we'll be able to figure something out."

 

His breath hitches in his throat. "I messed up Operation Jellyfish, didn't I?"

 

"You—” Her brows furrow, “… jellyfish?”

 

“Uh huh. Ma stings, but…” he grins. “If you get to know her, if you understand who she is and how she works, she’s a softy.” It earns another laugh, she can imagine Emma hearing this, crossing her arms, and getting all stroppy because she thinks she’s nothing like a jellyfish—his analysis of his mother is so on-the-ball that Regina briefly wonders what her Operation would be entitled.

 

“You did what you had to do, you tried, and that is all we—your mother and I—ask of you. She's just…" she sighs, looking down. "Lost at the moment, but we'll get her back—I promise." She is telling the truth, but she isn't sure whether she'll be able to follow through on that promise; Emma may never retrieve her memories, this fake Emma may be here to stay. It's even possible that Emma may leave, take Henry, marry her fiancée and have her Happily Ever After without her parents, and without Regina.

 

“I don’t want to go, I don’t want to leave. She needs to stay here, she needs to remember, mom.”

 

"I—"

 

"—Please."

 

Regina looks into his eyes, there's so much pain behind them, so much confusion. “You aren’t going anywhere.” She says, she's determined to prove to him that she isn't going to let him go, she isn't going to lose him again. It must be arduous for him to be in the middle of the constant drama that attacks Storybrooke, ever since Henry brought Emma here, the town's residents (especially Regina and the Charmings) had hardly had a moment's rest. But, it must be even harder for him to have one of his parents believe he's crazy, and want to take him away from one of the others—it's too much for a thirteen year old to handle.

 

Charming speaks up, arises from the corner he and Snow are currently sitting in, “he isn’t?" It's challenging her authority. Regina doesn't like it. "He's her son, Regina, we can't keep her from taking him home. Their life is different now, we're not a part of it, no one is."

 

"I agree." Of course she does. Snow stands to meet him, side to side. The Charmings usually make collective decisions, so they're in tandem with each other, and it irks Regina so much, that she almost can't stand them for it. Just almost. "If we try to keep Henry here, she'll call the police, she'll say we're kidnapping him. I know Emma, she's my daughter… and when she sets her mind to something, she's determined to see it through. She wants to leave, so… so as much as I dislike it… we… we have to let her go."

 

“We clearly differ in that regard.” There’s a pause before Regina laughs. It's cold. "You Charmings and your double standards… I'd find it funny if I weren't furious." She snaps her head around to look at them. Her eyes narrow, and her grip on Henry's hand tightens. "I am Henry's mother too." She bites out. They've really pushed her buttons this time. "I am not going to sit back and let Emma walk away with our son, when I know Storybrooke is the only place either of them have ever called home. I'm going to fight for Henry to stay, but I'm also going to fight for Emma too, because someone needs to fight for the Emma we all know and love."

 

Love. It slipped out, but it doesn't mean anything. She was just… making a point—or something along those lines—to express how important she believes it is for Emma and Henry to stay in town. Regina doesn't love Emma, she just chooses to like her, rather than hate her, it's easier to be like that (for Henry's sake). Besides, she has never met someone who agitates her as much as Emma does—her hair is stupid, her voice is stupid, and her clothes are… stupid. She also makes the most simple of situations into the most complex of ones, and she's stupid—captivating, charming (in more ways than one), and beautiful… but stupid. And engaged. And memory-less. Which puts Regina in a better position, because Emma is currently off limits, and she doesn't know what they've been through together, Emma doesn't know what they have (or would have had). So, Regina doesn't need to deal with what may or may not be there in terms of feelings, because she may just be in denial of how much she really loves… likes Stupid Emma.

 

“Mom's right. Emma belongs here.” Henry stresses. If he were blood-related to Regina, the vein in his forehead would most likely be popping out just as Regina’s does when she’s determined. He slides down from the bed, and steps forward toward the Charmings, letting go of Regina’s hand. “With you. With all of us. Storybrooke is her home, she just needs to realise that.”

 

There's a noise in the corridor, but Regina ignores it, “she won’t leave without you.”

 

“She might," Henry accuses as he folds his arms across his chest. Regina doesn’t like Henry’s attitude, it’s pessimistic, and it’s as if all of the optimism and hope has been drained out of him since he left Storybrooke. She isn’t his happy, little boy anymore; he’s a teenager. A teenager who now sees the world similar to how an adult sees the world, exposed to the terror, the horror of it all, the fears and retributions, all of which are intensified in this town she created.

 

She sighs softly, and reaches out for his hand again. He steps forward and allow her to take it. “Do you really think Emma would leave you here? Do you really think she would leave you anywhere, darling?” She pauses, waiting for Henry to answer, but he doesn’t. His face is pale, and he can’t seem to make eye contact. “She wouldn’t, Henry. She’s lost you before, and she regretted it so much that she will never ever want to lose you again. I can guarantee that.”

 

“But… not in this life.” The heel of his shoe digs into the floor, his head lifts to look at his mom’s face. “She didn’t give me up. She thinks she kept me.”

 

She shakes her head. “Didn’t you hear us speaking earlier in Granny’s? Emma said she recognised me, or remembered me, or that I was somehow familiar to her. She is still in there, Henry, she’s just… your mother is a little lost at the minute, and that’s… it’s not her fault. Her mind is clustered with so many memories, we just have to figure out how to bring the real ones to the forefront, like we did with you.” She smiles softly, and briefly chews on the inside of her cheek. “To do that, we need to all believe in her. It’s going to take time, but… I’ll find a way, Henry.” She whispers, “I’ll bring her back,” and affectionately brushes a small kiss against his temple.

 

“Did she remember us?” A pause. “Did she recognise us?” The room goes silent, and Regina tactfully pays attention to Henry, rather than the bumbling parents at the other side of the room. “Regina,” it’s more forceful this time. “Did she?”

 

“She just needs a little… push, and then she’ll be back on track. That’s all.”

 

Snow speaks up this time, “she didn’t… did she?” There are more tears in her eyes, and she clutches onto Charming’s shirt for support. She looks as if she’s going to break down, and Charming slowly wraps a steady arm around her shoulders, as she leans into his side to weep. “Why?” She manages to get out through small sobs. There’s more silence, another pause, because nobody knows what to say, or what to do—the only noise in the room is the beeping of Regina’s heart monitor.

 

“How?” Charming pushes, “how does she remember you, and not her own parents? How does that work, Regina? Because surely there’s something wrong there. You two barely even get along!”

 

In one respect, Regina wants to bite and fight back; she wants to defend herself, she wants to defend her relationship with Emma, she wants to explain how far they’ve come, how much they’ve changed, how much they actually care for each other—but she doesn’t. It would make no sense for Regina to fight this battle, because she doesn’t know why Emma remembers her either. She shouldn’t remember Regina, she’s nothing compared to Snow and Charming. They’re her parents. They love Emma. “I don’t know,” she admits. She closes her eyes, and rubs them gently. “Maybe it’s because I’m the one who provided the memories,” or maybe it’s something else. “I… I can’t do anything to change how she feels. I don’t know how to make her remember you yet, so don’t ask.”

 

"But—"

 

There’s a knock on the glass door, and Emma’s standing there, behind it, with that stupid smile on her face. She lifts a hand and waves slightly, before entering. “Hey.” It’s civil, cordial, and to be perfectly honest, Regina is a little perplexed to as why she didn’t storm in here and demand to know what the hell is going on. Emma steps inside, taking solace in the seat nearest to Regina and Henry. “I thought I’d find you here, kid.” Henry just shrugs, and turns his attention to Regina. He doesn’t know what to say, neither of them do, and the air feels as if it’s suddenly becoming thicker. It’s making Regina uneasy, and she realises her heart is beating faster, because it’s reflecting on the heart monitor. She doesn’t know whether it’s Emma’s presence, or the stressfulness of the situation that’s changing it, but she hastily reaches over and switches it off. “How are you feeling?” Regina watches as Emma’s tongue darts out of her mouth and runs along her bottom lip. “I stepped out… to uh… get some coffee.” She glances down to her empty hands, “… which I finished.”

 

“Evidently.” She takes a deep breath, “I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking.”

 

“Is he bothering you?” She motions to Henry, who frowns in response. “I know he can be a handful sometimes.”

 

“What?” She shakes her head, “no.” She’s sort of offended. “Not at all. He’s… we’re just getting to know each other, that’s all. He actually informed me of his little indiscretion earlier, and he wants to apologise for it, don’t you, Henry?”

 

He nods, and smiles. It’s forced. “Yeah,” his grip on the bed sheets stiffens. “I’m sorry for running away, mom.” He glances to Regina, but keeps his eyes on Emma, almost worried that she’s going to grab him and take him back to New York. “I was just… worried about Ms. Mills.” Regina has never seen him like this, never seen him so frightened, so apprehensive around Emma before, it really is as if they’ve switched roles and travelled back in time to when Emma arrived. “So that’s why I ran. I didn’t wanna leave without making she was okay, and I don’t think she is, so maybe we should stay for a while…”

 

Emma looks to Regina. “I heard everything.” Regina’s head tilts slightly in confusion, and before she can ask, Emma continues: “I was standing out in the corridor, and I heard you all talking. I heard you talking about how I lost Henry, and about how I think I remember you, Regina, and… why I don’t… about how I belong here, about… my parents.”

 

“Emma, I can—”

 

She shakes her head. “—No, stop. I’ve never lost Henry, not until now. With you Regina, I don’t know what it is. I just… there’s something there.”

 

Regina’s the one to shake her head this time. “Now’s not the best time to discuss that, dear.”

 

“And by the way, not that it’s anyone’s business but my own, but I don’t have any parents, I’m a foster kid, always have been, always will be…” Regina can almost hear Snow and Charming’s hearts break in two. “Soooo is somebody going to tell me what the hell is going on here? Is this some kind of joke? This isn’t what I fucking signed up for.” She crosses her arms, glancing over to her parents. “Why is my son suddenly making up stories about some… fairy-tale land where magic is real and you’re all Disney characters? I’ve seen Snow White, you all look nothing like the cartoons.” She’s visibly uncomfortable, confused and her hand is rubbing her head. “Why am I even talking about this? It’s… ridiculous. Is this a prank? What the hell is going on!?”

 

Regina briefly checks to see that Emma is sitting in the chair properly, with her back against it, and feet firmly on the floor, before she waves her hand in the air. Emma immediately loses consciousness—just as the Lost Boys did back in Neverland—and she looks to Henry, whispering, “she’s just asleep.” She lifts her head to look over to Snow and Charming, and she unexpectedly feels just as weak as she did when she woke up.

 

“What did you do?” One of them asks, but Regina can’t pinpoint which one. Charming, she thinks. “What did you do to her?”

 

Regina drops her voice a few octaves, “I killed her.” The Charmings stare at her, frantically, and she rolls her eyes. “What do you think I did? It’s a sleeping spell, she’ll be fine—she needs to rest until we figure out what to do with her. She knows too much. Myself, on the other hand, there’s a big possibility that I’m not okay. I need to talk to Rumplestiltskin.”

 

“But Mr. Gold is dead…" Snow says, there's a perplexed frown on her face. "There’s no way we can—”

 

“—We have the next best thing. Belle.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

The next morning, both Regina and Snow are on their way over to Mr. Gold’s Pawnshop, seeking out to recruit Belle to help in their plan against Zelena (or whomever is reeking havoc with this town). Earlier, at the hospital, Regina did insist that she go alone, but Snow didn’t have faith that Regina—who she believes to be “terribly sick”—could walk a few blocks unaccompanied without dying. After around ten minutes of quickly paced walking, they arrive at the shop, and Regina tentatively pushes open the door. “Hello?” She calls out, and glances up to the bell as it rings to announce their entrance. “Belle? It’s Regina.” The brunette glances around at Snow to ensure she closes the door behind them, and turns back to the shop. She spots a few books on one of the counters, and walks over to wistfully thumb through them.

 

“And Snow,” she adds, before throwing a smile in Regina’s direction.

 

“Yes, and you, dear." She rolls her eyes, "don’t worry, I didn’t forget you were here.” It's like Snow's still a child, persistently needy and annoying. She looks up, and taps her fingers on the top of one of the book’s covers, and glances around the room. “Belle?” She calls out again, “I need to talk to you.”

 

Just as Regina finishes speaking, a head pops around the curtain through to the back. “Oh, me?”

 

Regina refrains from making an overly-sarcastic remark at the amount of citizens in Storybrooke with the name ‘Belle’, and just smiles gently. “Hello.” She’s hoping that—coupled with the apology she made a few weeks ago, and a kind exterior—Belle will help in their endeavour to uncover who wrongfully cursed this town. “I was hoping you could help us…”

 

Belle steps through to the main shop, her heels click-clacking on the floor underneath her petite frame. “Hi,” she smiles, but her eyes focus in on the books Regina has been looking through. Regina notices, and lifts her hand from them and places both of her arms down by her sides. Belle immediately perks up, (she loves her books). “What can I help you with?”

 

“It’s a very long story, but… well, Emma’s back, but she believes in this fake life that I created for her. We need her to help bring our memories back, to help us to defeat whomever has cursed this town, and… we can't do it without your help, Belle." She takes a breath, “I was wondering whether you have any books specifically on the topic of bringing back memories, and…" She lowers her voice. "I’d also like to talk to you about a private matter. Without Snow in the room.”

 

Snow’s hand lifts to her heart, she hears and says, “without me? What did I ever do?” but she then completely regrets that statement, because there’s been countless things she’s done to hurt Regina in many aspects of her life. She quietly shuffles over to the other side of the room, and focuses on a couple of raggedy dolls she’s never noticed before.

 

“I do have a few books on that topic, yes. I started looking for them when everyone realised we’d forgotten a chunk of time, so I did some research, but couldn’t find anything. You’re free to look at them, if you’d like. They’re in the back.” Belle motions to the curtain, and then lowers her voice too, “we can talk through there, if you’d like.”

 

Regina just nods, silently thanking her, and heads through to the back. She’d always liked Belle; she’s just never gotten the chance to get to know her properly. (Of course, that’s due to her imprisoning her for thirty years, but now, she’d like to get a chance to know the girl Rumple was in love with). Belle follows her through, and again, motions to the pile of books on one of the tables. Regina makes her way over, sitting down on a chair, and begins to thumb through them.

 

Belle stands, watching her. "Just… be careful. They are very old books." She smiles nervously, and watches as Regina softens her touch. “Have you tried Henry’s book? That’s how she learned to believe in the first place, so maybe that could help in restoring her memories.”

 

“That was my first thought. Unfortunately, I can’t seem find it anywhere. I've looked endlessly amongst my things, amongst Snow's things… but, nada.” Regina looks up to Belle, her elbow resting on the table, and her fingers resting on her temple. “I assumed it must have been swept away with the curse. Do you think there’s a possibility that it may have ended up here? Seeing as this is the place where belongings end up after a curse has been cast.”

 

She shakes her head in response. “I haven’t seen it here. I’ll keep my eyes open for it though.”

 

“Thank you, Belle.” It’s sincere, and a smile comes along with it. “I mean it.”

 

Belle smiles back, and nods. “You’re welcome, Regina. I’m sure if… if Rumple was alive, he’d…” she swallows, holding back a tear. “Want me to help you.” She nods again, almost as if she’s confirming what she’s just said in her mind. Her eyes flicker away to focus on the other side of the room, as she fights back tears.

 

A sigh sounds from Regina's mouth as she looks through each page concentrated on the topic of Memories, but she can’t find anything that would be appropriate to bring Emma’s memory back. There are a few spells, but without specific ingredients, or without being in a certain situation, Regina isn’t sure whether they would work. Hastily, she writes down a few of the things she’s found, and looks up to Belle. “I suppose that’s all, then.”

 

“Didn’t you want to talk about something else? A private matter, you said.”

 

“Oh,” she makes it seem as if she almost forgot, but she hadn’t. It’s been playing on her mind since she and Snow left the hospital this morning. She pats the empty chair next to her, and pauses until Belle is comfortably seated. “Have you… read any books about the philosophy of soul mates?”

 

A confused frown spreads across the younger girl’s face, “a few.” She cocks her head slightly, intrigued. “Why?”

 

“Well," she breathes. She can't believe she's about to tell this story, the story she's kept to herself for so many years, the story which haunts her at night, and pulls at her hair when she's trying to forget about the mistake she inevitably made. "A long time ago, back in our land, Tinkerbell told me I was destined to be with someone. This someone was a man with a lion tattoo. Unfortunately I’ve never met him, nor do I know his name, job, or… anything or the sort. But, I continued on through life, thinking I may meet him in the future. I haven’t. Not that I know of anyway,” a small laugh escapes from her mouth. It's soft, and dripping with sadness, but she pushes on. “Do you know whether it’s possible to have more than one soul mate? If your soul mate dies, are you… automatically allocated a new one? I’m not so sure how this,” she waves her hand in the air. “All works.”

 

Belle hums softly. She’s pensive. “From what I’ve read, it’s possible to find another soul mate, but they aren’t allocated per se, you have to work for them, or… as you’ve just said, you may never meet them.”

 

Regina nods. “So, I didn’t meet him because I didn’t… try.”

 

“That’s a possibility, but there are many other possibilities too. I’ve read about… death,” she pauses slightly, and Regina’s heart drops. She really does, did, love Rumplestiltskin. Regina can see it in Belle’s eyes. Every time she mentions him, talks about death or just thinks about him, her entire face changes. “A-And other contributing factors.”

 

“Of course. And…” Regina chews on her lip again. She steadies her hands. “Have you ever read about soul mates who share a magical ability? Are they different? Does one person have the capability to affect another person, without realising it?”

 

Belle licks her lips slightly, “it’s probably easier to figure out what you want me to say, if I know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Emma.”

 

“Emma?” She echoes.

 

“Emma,” Regina responds. “Two days ago, Emma suggested that she didn’t believe in magic… out loud. As soon as she said that, I… well, I can’t even explain it.” A pause. “I suppose you could liken it to walking into something. It struck me. A wave of magic struck me, thankfully while I was sitting down, but it sent my entire body into a… kind of shut-down mode. I eventually passed out, was taken to hospital, and Whale couldn’t find anything wrong with me. So I put two and two together.”

 

She taps her foot on the floor, “hm. The only thing I’ve really heard about that is when someone claims they don’t believe in fairies, one dies. But maybe it’s different with…” she stares straight at Regina. “Soul mates?”

 

“Mm,” is all she can respond. She’s thinking about the possibility that Emma could have an effect on her magic, and in turn, have a damaging effect on her. She is pregnant, and she can’t have things like that threaten the life of her child. The baby comes first, before anyone; its survival is of utmost importance.

 

Belle’s astonished. “The Saviour and the Evil Queen? Wow.” She laughs delicately, “well, you two do fight like a married couple.”

 

“Regina!” Snow comes hurtling through, pushing the curtain aside hastily and rushes over to where Regina’s sitting. She plonks a book down in front of her, “look!”

 

Once Upon A Time.

 

It’s the book; it’s Henry’s book. Regina presses her hand against the cover, to ensure that it is in fact sitting in front of her, and looks back to Snow. With her mouth agape, she manages, “how?”

 

“I don’t know! I was looking through a few boxes… actually I found my mirror, do you mind if I keep it, Belle?” Snow looks over, but Regina stares so hard at the side of Snow’s head that it almost forces her to turn back around to Regina. “It just… appeared. Out of nowhere. Like it did the first time.”

 

Regina stands up, “did Charming drop Emma at my house?” She waits for Snow’s nod of approval, picks up the book and the notes she made from the others, and turns to Belle. “Belle, thank you again.” She smiles, and tenderly touches the princess’ shoulder. “I’ll be in touch.”

 

 

  

She leisurely opens the door to her bedroom, peeking inside, before opening it fully. Emma is sound asleep in her bed—she’s lying on the side Regina doesn’t sleep on, and she’s facing toward the side she does. With one leg hiked up over the blankets, and her back positioned so she’s comfortably curled up in the foetal position, it’s as if she belongs there, as if she belongs in Regina’s bed. “Emma?” Regina whispers, and tiptoes over to her side. She sits down on the edge of the bed, places the book on the table, and reaches out a hand to brush back some fallen locks of hair out of Emma’s face. “Emma… wake up.” The sleeping spell shouldn’t have lasted this long, she slept through the entire night, but it’s Emma, and whenever she gets a chance to sleep for as long as possible, she takes it. Her voice loudens, “wake up.”

 

Her eyes flutter open, and she groans tiredly, “what?” Her hand lifts to wipe the drool from the side of her mouth, and then she pushes herself up onto her elbows, and looks over to Regina. “Oh… hey.”

 

“Hi,” is all she can say. If this were anyone else, she would have proclaimed how disgusting they are and complained about how long they’ve slept, but she can’t bring herself to do that for some reason. Regina smiles very softly, “how was your sleep?”

 

Emma sits up properly, pushes the pillows up behind her and rests against them. “Alright. I feel like I’ve slept for a million years.” There’s a small chill in the air, so she pulls the covers up a little more, which Regina reaches out her hands to help her with. The younger woman’s eyes scan the room. “Where am I?”

 

“Well, this,” she pats the bed. “Is my room.”

 

Emma’s eyes widen, and she turns her attention to Regina. “Did we…?”

 

“What?” Regina’s brows furrow, then her mouth drops slightly as she realises what Emma means. “No. No, no, no. Why would you even—?”

 

“—I don’t remember falling asleep,” her hand lifts to scratch the back of her neck. “Last thing I remember is seeing you in a hospital bed, looking pretty worse for wear. All those wires couldn’t have been comfortable. You’re okay now, right?”

 

She shakes her head. “They weren’t. But I’m fine, thank you for asking.” She pauses for a moment to think. “This may sound a little…” she swallows, and looks up to Emma’s face. “Odd. And sudden. But, there’s a reason you fell asleep. There’s… a reason for all of this, and there’s an answer for every single question you asked in the hospital. My only concern is that… I don’t think you’ll believe me, because you didn’t believe Henry when he told you.”

 

“Lemme guess,” she bites her lip and makes an overly exaggerated thinking-face. “My entire life is a lie and you’re all fairy-tale characters, trapped in this world by an Evil Queen… which is you, right?”

 

“Well…” she starts. She can almost feel her blood pressure rising. “Yes.”

 

A laugh emerges from Emma’s mouth. Regina notes how her skin crinkles in the corners of her eyes, and she stops herself from smiling at noticing such a minor detail. She usually likes it when Emma smiles, but not at this moment, because Emma is laughing at the truth. She doesn’t believe Regina, and rightly so, who would? “You’re kidding me, right? You’re really going on with this story he just came up with? Are you all fucking crazy here?”

 

“Think of it… think of it like this, Emma.” She reaches for her hand, and squeezes it gently once she has it. “You’ve been in an accident, and your old, real memories, have been replaced with new, fake ones. Thus, you don’t believe anything we’re telling you, because in your mind, it simply isn’t real. But it is. Everything…” there’s a small sigh. She’s absolutely determined to make Emma believe her. If they can’t find a way to bring back her memories, then Regina is going to find away to make her believe in the past, and hence, believe in magic. “Everything I’m telling you is the truth. I promise.”

 

“I’ve known you for like, a week… this is kinda creepy, lady.”

 

Regina nods. “I understand that. I do. I’m… practically a stranger to you. But you did say that you thought you’d met me before, and that we’d crossed paths before. I need you to focus on that. I need you to focus on the possibility that we know each other, and that we’ve known each other for quite some time. That we’re… friends, mothers…” and lovers, she wants to say, but she doesn’t. When Emma doesn’t respond, she turns to the side table and lifts the book from it. “This… this is Henry’s book.” She brushes her thumb over the E at the end of Time. “It’s special.”

 

Emma makes a face. “That isn’t Henry’s book, Henry doesn’t—”

 

“Hear me out. Please.” When Emma nods confusedly, Regina continues. “This is Henry’s book. Snow White gave it to him in a time of need, a time when he needed to believe in Happy Endings. He was losing hope, we all were, I think, but this, this book brought you here, Emma. In another life, you weren’t ready to look after a baby; you weren’t ready to give up your entire life for something you weren’t even sure you could deal with, so you gave Henry away… and I… I adopted him. Ten years later, he found you, and he brought you here, with the help from this book, because this book made him believe in magic. It made him believe who we all were, who we all are, and I’m hoping it will help you believe too.”

 

“A book.” Emma raises an eyebrow. “A book is meant to make me believe in all this magic stuff? It’s meant to make me believe that I’m supposed to be a different person? I don’t think a flying dragon would even make me believe, never mind a kids’ book. You gotta do better than that.”

 

Regina frowns, she isn’t getting anywhere with Emma, and she honestly doesn’t know how to go about this whole thing, without freaking her out even more. She chews on her lip for a moment, “okay. Let me try this another way.” She kicks her shoes off, and climbs onto the bed, crossing her legs. She places the book in the middle of them, and holds her hands out to Emma. “Just… try. Try and believe me.”

 

“This is fucking crazy.”

 

Regina pulls her hands away. “Do you want to know why you feel like you belong here, why you feel like you know me? Then believe me, give me a chance to help you remember, Emma. Because if you’re going to sit there, and make fun of everything I do to try and help you, I swear to the Gods, I will…” she shakes her head. It’s not worth getting angry over; it isn’t Emma’s fault, but she’s frustrated at this entire situation. It should be easier to remind someone of the past they lived, especially when you have the one thing that may actually work: the book. Regina clicks her tongue. “You’re insufferable, do you know that? You haven’t changed one bit. You’re still as stubborn as your mother.”

 

Emma crosses her arms. She grows cold. “I don’t have a mom.”

 

“Yes.” She’s agitated, and annoyed. “Yes, you do, and you can meet her if you just…” she sighs. “Trust me.” Her voice lowers, and her speech becomes a lot softer. “You were found on the side of a road, just outside of Storybrooke, because that’s where your parents left you. You know that, you know where you were left, and you know it’s around here. Your parents are here, Emma. And… well, if this doesn’t work… what have you got to lose?” Regina once again holds her hands out to Emma, palms facing up, hovering above the book. She closes her eyes, and lets out a small sigh of relief when she feels Emma intertwine her fingers between her own.

 

“So,” Emma clears her throat. “What are we doing? Some kinda voodoo thing? You gonna try and kill me?”

 

Regina opens her eyes just to roll them. “No. I'm not. But I will, if you continue on acting so immaturely.”

 

“So is it magic?”

 

She closes her eyes again, and tightens the grip on Emma’s hands. “Perhaps. Close your eyes.” She opens hers momentarily to check that Emma’s eyes are indeed closed, and she’s surprised to see that they are. Maybe she believes more than what she’s portraying to believe. “I need you to think about why you remember me, why specifically me, and not anybody else in this town.” She takes a deep breath, and flickers her eyes open to look down to their joined hands. Her palms feel a little sweaty, and her heart is beginning to beat faster—she feels like the responsibility of bringing Emma back is resting on her shoulders. “I need you to focus on some of those memories, the ones you have of me, or the ones you think you have of me, if there are any, and Henry. I need you to try and slot the pieces together, to figure out what you’re remembering. Do you understand?”

 

“Uh.” She nods. “I think so, but what does this have to do with…? I feel like we’re contacting the dead or something." A pause, and Emma opens one eye, "do you have a Ouija board?”

 

“Focus,” she snaps, and refrains from calling Emma out on her childish behaviour. They both close their eyes again. “Do you trust me, Emma? Do you trust Henry?”

 

It’s hesitant. “Uh sure…” she tightens her grip on Regina’s hands. “As much as I can trust a woman I've known for like, a week, sure. Yeah, I do.”

 

She tightens her jaw. “Wonderful. Now, as I said, focus on those memories, on your memories with Henry, and your memories with me… but only ones of which have taken place in this town, before you met me this week.”

 

“Mm, I…” Emma says. Her voice is quiet, and suddenly the grip she has on Regina's hands tighten. “Yeah.” She sounds confused, a little surprised, but she continues speaking. “I can… what the hell is going on? I can see Henry… and yeah, that's you. We're like, on a road thing, there's loads of people around. You’re… you said you're giving me a gift or something. But…” her brows furrow. “There’s nothing in your hands to give me, so that's probably a lie." She scoffs slightly, "wait, you’re… holding my hand. Are we…? What the… I’ll… I’ll have never given him up…? This can’t be—”

 

Regina can feel the heat pooling in between their hands. She doesn’t mean to be using magic, but she thinks she is, or maybe it’s Emma. In fact, it may be possible that they’re both using magic subconsciously. They’ve used magic together a few times before, when they opened a portal to send the Wraith back to the Enchanted Forest, and when they moved the moon to save Henry, but that was different, Regina was trying to use magic then, and at the moment, she’s not. She’s just trying to get Emma to tap into her memories, to tap into the past, and to tap into what she can and can’t remember, so that Regina can pinpoint where the memories begin and end. She pops one eye open at first, then follows with the other. Her gaze lingers on their hands. There’s a small string of light tying their hands together, connecting their hands so it’s as if they’ve fused into one, and the flickers of light dance on Emma’s skin, enhancing the golden waves of her hair, radiating against her skin. She looks… beautiful.

 

Regina watches closely, eyes unable to tear themselves away from the moment occurring right in front of her. “Focus, Ms. Swan. Focus on that memory.” Her voice is quiet, and comforting, because her attention is fixed solely on the magic naturally ensuing between them. It’s mesmerising.

 

A small sigh of relief sounds from the blonde’s mouth. “Okay. This is totally weird, I'm kinda… together, we’re going to be together. But…” She swallows. Her head shakes. “Wait. What the hell? I’m walking away, we’re walking away from you, Henry and I, we’re… whoa, in my Bug, and we’re leaving. What’s happening…? Where did this come from? I've never… we’re driving away. Wait, I-I… remember this. Shit. What the… this is when we were driving from Boston to New York. Our apartment had burnt down, and I found a better paying job, so I decided to relocate us.” Emma’s eyes open, and they instantly lock with Regina’s. The magic happening between their hands fades out as Emma lets go. “And… you think Henry and I never lived in Boston together? We lived here. In Storybrooke. With you. That's just…” she swallows. "Crazy."

 

Regina echoes Emma’s sigh of relief, but it's small. She's relieved that Emma at least saw something, perhaps through the use of magic, but she doesn't feel faint yet. “Yes, that’s correct. Do you remember?” She chews on her lip, watching carefully as Emma’s face contorts into slight disappointment. “I’ll take that as a no. Perhaps… you remember the book?”

 

She shakes her head in response. “Can I…?” Regina nods and hands it over. As soon as Emma’s fingers touch the cover, the brunette braces herself for her memories to return. But it doesn’t happen. Emma casually opens the cover and begins to skim through the first few pages.

 

Regina joins her hands in her lap. It’s all over. She thought that this would be the solution. The book made Henry believe, it made Henry understand everything, and then it too made Emma understand everything when Henry’s life was in danger (due to the poisoned apple turnover she’d baked). Regina knows that the book may bring back her memories if she believes in magic, but every time she’s even begun to use magic lately, it’s physically backfired on her—she’s fainted, ended up in the hospital, or fallen ill, apart from just now, when she and Emma were performing magic without even knowing they were. She stays quiet, and timidly watches and Emma thumbs through the pages all about her parents, all about them giving her up for her best chance, and all about the Evil Queen’s curse. But Emma stops on a particular page, the page with a drawing of her as a baby, wrapped in her purple and white baby blanket Granny knitted her, with the name Emma stitched into it.

 

“This.” Her finger points to the picture. “This is where Henry got the fairy-tale idea from, isn’t it? My name is in here.” Emma’s brows knot together, and she chews absentmindedly on the inside of her cheek. “That’s my blanket. I have this blanket.”

 

Regina nods. All she can say is, “I know,” because she doesn’t know what else to respond with. Was she meant to continue to push the truth onto Emma? Or should she do what’s she’s doing now and continue to let Emma discover what she needs to know on her own?

 

“How is this even real? This is just…” she drops the book on the bed. “A stupid kids’ book.” Regina can tell she’s in denial, and knows that all Emma wants to do right now is run, because she doesn’t understand. She leans down to grab her boots, and she pulls them on forcefully. “This isn’t my life. Believing a thirteen-year-old kid’s lie isn’t healthy.”

 

The older woman reaches over to rest her hand on Emma’s knee, not to stop her, not to force her to do something she doesn’t want to do, but to calm her. “Then believe me.” Her voice is soft, “how do you think I knew Henry’s name? How do you think I knew how old he was? Why do you think he called me ‘mom’ when he remembered, and when I was sick? Why do you think we have such a good relationship so suddenly?” She pauses, and looks Emma in the eyes. “Do you really think that was formed in a week? It wasn’t. It was formed over the twelve years of his life I had a part in.”

 

Emma edges away from her. “You could be a stalker, a crazy person, a…”

 

“A mother?” She removes her hand from her knee, and lets Emma have her own personal space. She doesn’t want to push too much. She just wants to get through to her. “What do I have to do to make you believe, Emma? I’m… I’m tired of trying, I’m tired of worrying that I’m going to wake up in the morning and you and Henry will be gone. I’m worried that I’m going to lose you two. Again.”

 

The look of pure trepidation is painted across Emma’s face. She swallows. “I… Regina, I’m not so sure about this. It’s just not normal. None of this is normal. You’re asking me to believe in the impossible.”

 

“Just… don’t run.” It’s firm, but kind. “I know you, Emma. I can’t have you running, just like you always do when you get scared. You need to give this town a chance; you need to give me a chance, Henry a chance, to fix things around here. You need to stay, you belong here.”

 

“I don’t even know you.” Her brows knit together in confusion, she’s wracking her brains for any way to get out of this situation, for any way to prove that Regina is just joking, or lying to manipulate and hurt her.

 

Regina shakes her head, trying her utmost not to raise her voice. “You just saw me. In your memory. I was there. The gift you mentioned I was giving you was a new life for the two of you, because… I, and many others, had to go back to where we come from. We couldn’t take you or Henry with us, because it wouldn’t have been possible. The new life I gave you is the life you think you lived, the birthdays, and the Christmases with Henry, when in reality, you weren’t around. It was me in your place.” She takes a deep breath, “I know this is hard to hear.”

 

“How do I know that it was a memory? It could have been a dream or…”

 

“Magic?” She smiles knowingly. “It’s the only explanation, isn’t it? I don’t know why you remember me, because the spell I cast was specifically put in place so that you wouldn’t, but you do remember me, and… maybe that’s because your old self is trying to get through to you. Listen to me,” she rests a hand on the bed, near to Emma’s thigh. “We need you. A lot of people love you, and depend on you here. Henry has his entire family here. We all need you to come around.”

 

“… You need me?”

 

She breathes out a sigh, “yes.” She feels so physically and emotionally drained. “I need both of you.”

 

“And… in your world, did I… did we need you?”

 

“I…” she wipes a tear from her cheek. “I would like to think so, but honestly? I’m not sure. We never… there was never time to sit down and talk about anything like that. This town is constantly under threat, and in the beginning, it was exhilarating—it’s tiresome now.”

 

Emma moves closer to Regina. “Don’t cry. I really… uh, don’t do well with emotions…” she laughs slightly, and Regina mirrors her with her own. She knows. “Here's the thing, I know there’s something about you, Regina. It’s as if you, Henry and I are magnetic, like we’re meant to be together, here in Storybrooke. But that's just fucking ridiculous, I… it's just… different, somehow, here. I wanna stay, I wanna believe you, but I can't. Maybe I used to dream about this place, maybe I used to dream about you.”

 

“It’s possible.” A pause. “Emma, what is your reason for staying here?” She asks, and pushes a piece of hair out of her face. “Why haven’t you left? Why don’t you just leave? Is it because of how you feel about this town? How it makes you feel?”

 

She shrugs, and leans back onto her hands. Regina watches as Emma studies her subtly. “Uh, I guess, but I did try to leave. Henry stopped me in my tracks when he ran away, back to you.”

 

“If he hadn’t,” she looks to her. “Would you have left? Would you have gone back to New York?”

 

“Yeah. Like you said, and I don't know how you know that by the way… but I prefer to run than face… yeah.”

 

“Would you…" Regina swallows, she's scared to even say it. "Would you be happier in New York?”

 

Once again, Emma shrugs, unsure of what to say. “My life was great in New York, so was Henry’s, he really liked it there. He preferred it to Boston. There’s not much that he could do there, but he has the whole city in New York. He has friends, I have friends, and work’s great.” She smiles softly, “we loved it there.”

 

“It should be easy enough for you to just leave then,” she snaps. It comes out harsher than expected, but Regina doesn’t regret it, she’s agitated, angry and frustrated at herself, at Emma, at the world. She just wants to make Emma remember, she needs to make Emma remember.

 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Regina. I don't know what you want me to do. I don't know you, I don't… you're just…” she sighs, and stands up. “Look, I’m gonna go for a walk, to figure all of this out.”

 

“A walk?” Regina stands up too. She doesn't believe she'll leave to take a walk. “Just a walk?" She moves closer to Emma. "There is absolutely no possible way that you'll just go on a walk, Emma. Don't you dare leave.”

 

A response doesn't come. Emma pulls her jacket her on, and then turns around to look back at the brunette. And suddenly, they’re close. Closer than they’ve ever been in the past week. Regina can feel the warmth radiating off Emma's body, it's almost comfortable, and she takes a small step closer toward her. Even closer. Emma’s hand brushes past Regina’s upper arm, and they instantaneously lock eyes. Regina feels a pair of hands rest on the curve of her hips, and she watches as Emma licks her lips. This feels oddly natural. They're face to face, so close that they can both feel each other's breath on the other. Regina likes being close to Emma. It makes her feel… she doesn’t know what it makes her feel; comfortable, happy, protected, loved maybe. And in that moment, Regina thinks about love, she thinks about the possibility that she may love Emma, she thinks about the possibility that Emma may love her. She knows it may be delusional to assume a person could fall in love with someone in a week, a week where one half of the couple has consistently told them stories, of which the other half believes to be ridiculous. It may not be possible, but it always may be possible too, and that's what keeps Regina going. She bites her lip in thought, and watches as Emma’s gaze flickers down to watch her lips for a moment, before she leans in.

 

“Emma,” she breathes. “You’re engaged.”

 

“I don’t care.” And without hesitation, their lips touch, ever so gently. It’s the moment they’ve both been waiting for, since they both first met. It’s liberating… so liberating that Regina melts into the kiss, as she feels Emma do exactly the same. It feels so right. It’s slow, soft, and innocent; all of their problems, all of their troubles, float away into absolute oblivion. No one else matters. Their focus is on each other.

 

Regina’s hands slide up the sides of Emma’s arms, until they reach her shoulders, she then moves them to delicately cup her cheeks. She gently rubs a thumb against Emma’s cheek, and smiles ever so subtly against her lips. “Mm,” it’s muffled, but it’s there. It’s a signal that she’s comfortable with what’s happening, and Emma takes that as permission to snake her arms around Regina’s slender waist, joining them at the small of her back. A few chills run up the back of Regina’s spine, as she begins to comprehend what is actually happening. They’re kissing, they’re touching, they’re embracing each other; no drama, no arguments, nothing; just… pure intimacy. It feels as if time is standing still. She… she loves her.

 

And as they kiss, something hits the both of them, a wave of magic, just like before, but it doesn't hurt. It fills them both up with warmth, and from the sheer shock, Regina instantly pulls away from the kiss, (though she’s still in Emma’s arms). Her hands stay glued to the blonde’s cheeks, and her mouth drops slightly. Her eyes begin to water. Emma looks frantic and apologetic, as if she believes she’s done something wrong, and in that moment, Regina realises, that what just happened to her, hasn’t occurred to Emma at all. She whimpers softly, and swallows the imaginary lump in her throat. “What’s… is it me?” Regina’s response is only to shake her head, smile through the tears, and bring one hand from Emma’s cheek down to rest on her stomach.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may not be what you're expecting to happen, but I hope it both surprises you, and keeps you interested in the story. It's sort of the "big reveal" chapter, lots of information, lots of dialogue, lots of characters. All you need to know is that the italics signal a memory. Don't hate me, (you'll know what I mean once you've finished reading). Again, I'd just like to thank you for all the kind comments, kudos, bookmarks, and views. They really mean the world to me.

The hand resting on her stomach grows rigid, it begins to slowly clutch onto her skin through the material of her clothing. Her nails, they pierce the skin underneath her shirt so severely that she can imagine the five red, moon-shaped crescents she’ll be left with when this is all over. She can feel the skin underneath her nails, and the pain; the relief the pain gives her, it’s a release. She begins to tremble irrepressibly; the shakes ripple through her body so intensely that she feels as if she won’t be able to hold herself up soon. Her free hand lifts to touch her mouth, to cover it, to muffle the sobs, the cries of what she could have had, of what she thought she had, and of what she’ll never have. The hand moves, it reaches to touch the wall, and with its help, she balances, and slides down to settle on the floor. She brings her knees up to her chest, and she wraps her arms around them; she feels eighteen again, eighteen, constricted and terribly alone.

 

Emma seems to say something, maybe to try to console her in some way, but Regina doesn’t hear. The voice is distorted, its echo bounces off the walls of the room, and makes it almost impossible to decipher. Even still, if it were crystal clear, her head feels too heavy to focus on anything else but the chaos inside it. She feels Emma move closer, their body heat collides as she slides down and sits with Regina, crossed legged on the floor. She speaks again. No response.

 

Regina feels Emma’s gentle touch on her upper arm, she’s rubbing it, and then she slides it down to rest on top of one of her hands. The warmth, the intimacy of it, it comforts Regina, but it doesn’t change her state of mind. It doesn’t change anything. She doesn’t fully understand why Emma is still here, why she’s sitting, soothing her, when she hardly knows her. They’d just spent an hour talking about a multitude of subjects she doesn’t believe in, admitting that she believes Regina to be crazy, but she’s here, and Regina’s appreciative of that.

 

They’d kissed, it was so soft, so innocent, but that kiss had brought everything whirling back to her. The past year, the time they’d spent in the Enchanted Forest after sending Henry and Emma away, she remembers it, and she assumes that everyone else does too. That means two things. One of those things is that somewhere, deep inside of her, Emma must believe in magic. And then, there’s the second revelation: the kiss. (But she’s pushing that to the back of her mind. She’s too terrified to acknowledge it; she’s so scared that it might be wrong, that there’s been a mistake, a mix-up in the magical universe).

 

Regina’s whipped out of her reverie when she hears a whisper, and forces herself to listen. “Hey…” it says. Regina doesn’t dare look up, for fear of seeing disappointment and confusion spread across Emma’s face, and not being able to smooth it all out. “What happened?” Her voice is soft, inviting, and she wants to tell her. She wants to spill everything out until she loses her voice, she wants to explain everything to her, but she can’t, she’s scared. It feels as if her brain is swelling, everything rushing into her brain too quickly for her to dissect it all, pushing and shoving to get to the forefront, to steal her attention, and one manages to.

 

…

 

_It’s quite dark out, and there’s a small stench in the air due to the severe nature of the curse they just cast, but the wind, blowing in the opposite direction to the three, carries it away. Regina has just split Snow’s heart in two, given one half back to her, and one to Charming, and fortunately, it is strong enough for the both of them to survive on. After the short celebrations, the hugs, the kisses, the “thank you”s, Regina smiles through relieved tears, and stands up to moves away to give them some space. She manoeuvres her way over to the cauldron, peeking over it to ensure that all is going to plan, and it is. They would be back in Storybrooke in no time, they would find Emma and Henry, they would defeat Zelena and finally (hopefully) be able to rest for a while, until the next threat decides to appear, that is._

_There’s a large flash of light, and the clouds above crackle loudly, causing the three of them to jump slightly. Without warning, Zelena swoops down from the sky; she’s perched on her broomstick, and as her feet touch the ground, a smug smile decorates her face. “Well, well, well. Look at what we have here.” She makes her way over to the cauldron, broomstick in hand, and leans over it. She takes a deep breath in, as if she can identify what’s brewing by the smell, and then steps back as the smoke begins to sluggishly billow out of it. “The Dark Curse, I presume?” She smiles again, though this time, it’s different, tight-lipped, possibly forced. Maybe she wasn’t expecting them to choose this path. “What a smart idea, however,” she lifts a hand, one index finger points up to the ceiling, to stall them from responding. “Not smart enough.”_

_“What are you doing here, Zelena?” Regina stops herself from rolling her eyes. Her voice is low, and she’s so agitated by her sister’s frequent, sudden appearances, that she hardly even pays her any attention. Her eyes focus in on her nails, on the faint, swirling pattern of the stone floor, or even on the cauldron, anything but Zelena. Regina doesn’t want to openly hand her the attention she so eagerly desires._

_Zelena reaches a hand out, over the cauldron, fist clenched. “I’m here to spice things up a little.” Her hand releases the fist, fingers splaying out to alter the curse’s effect. She turns to watch, eyes lighting up as the smoke halves, one side purple, and the other, now as green as her skin. “Oops.”_

_“What…” Snow steps forward, fingers tightly intertwined with Charming’s. “What did you do?” When there’s no response in return, she turns her head to Regina, frantic. “What did she do?”_

_Regina shoots them a subtle, reassuring look, and turns her attention, finally, to her sister. Her chin is lifted, and she’s purposely looking down her nose, degrading her in her mind, and in her actions, to nothing but a lonely, jealous witch. “Nothing, she’s bluffing. Once the curse has been cast, it can’t be stopped. I can assure you all of that.” She waves a hand in dismissal, as if none of this is troubling her in the slightest._

_“You have me all wrong, dear. I wasn’t trying to stop it. I was simply…” she pauses, for dramatic effect, Regina assumes (as she rolls her eyes subtly). Zelena catches it, and cocks her head, watching her closely, “adding my own wicked touch to the marvellous plan of yours. Do you all need your memories in this new land? That’s too bad, because I just took them all away. Every single one. Poof! Plucked out, and disposed of. What a shame.”_

_Regina feels her heartbeat speed up, and she suddenly feels somewhat breathless. Assuming everything would go smoothly was foolish of her, nothing is simple in any of the lands. “This is preposterous, Zelena. What have I ever done to make you hate me so much? We barely even know each other.”_

_“Isn’t it obvious?” She starts, assuming a closer position to Regina than before. Her voice is quiet, menacing, and she grits her teeth as she says, “you were born.” A look of sheer disgust spreads across her face; she’s repulsed by the fact that Regina exists, but her face changes slightly. Glee. “But I’m going to change that.”_

_“So, you’re going to kill me, then?” Regina stifles a small laugh, and rests a hand on her hip. “How original.”_

_“Oh, no, no. Not just kill you,” she snarls. “Something much worse.”_

_Regina’s shoulders lift nonchalantly, and she mirrors Zelena, stepping toward her in a ploy to intimidate her. The brunette’s arms stretch outwardly, palms open in provocation. “Then do it. Your problem is with me, Zelena, nobody else. So fight me, and leave them be.”_

_Zelena feigns contemplation, and then cackles—it’s low and sister. “But that’s not much fun, is it? You just went through all that trouble to cast The Dark Curse, so I thought… why not use it to my advantage? Now,” Zelena steps closer. “I’m going to enlighten you all by making you aware of my plans, because once you set foot in this new land of yours, you won’t remember a thing, and right now, I want to watch you squirm.” She observes Regina, almost nose-to-nose with her, and growls, “I’m going to destroy you. I’ll show you how to really take away a Happy Ending. You can use your pathetic attempt as a comparison, sis.”_

_Another laugh escapes Regina’s mouth, only this one is a little less confident than the other. She stands up straighter, taller, (something Cora used to always remind her to do), and grits her teeth, “I’d like to see you try.”_

_“Aw,” Zelena pouts. “Wouldn’t mother be proud? Look at you. Little Regina, all grown up!”_

_“At least she wanted me, she abandoned **you** ,” she bites back._

_Regina flinches slightly, as Zelena lifts her hand to affectionately stroke her jawline. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, do you?” Sighing over-exasperatedly, her finger dancers down Regina’s jawline, and stops under her chin, tipping it up to ensure she is paying attention. “Listen closely, you may want to remember this, oh wait…” there’s a smirk. Zelena quickly grabs Regina’s face with her hand, digging her nails firmly into the soft, supple skin of her sister’s cheeks. “I’m going to take everything away from. I’ve spent my entire life watching you, learning how you operate, learning your wants, your needs, whom you love and whom you trust. I know everything.”_

_“And?” Regina struggles slightly against Zelena’s grip, but she feigns serenity. “How could you ever make my life worse? Pray tell.”_

_“After losing Henry… I’m going to give you exactly what you want, what you’ve always wished for, even if you continue to deny it. I’m going to give you a child.” She digs her nails harder into Regina’s skin, but Regina pulls her face from Zelena’s grip. “I’m going to make you believe you’re pregnant. A new baby! How wonderful. One to replace the old one, one to replace all the ones you’ve lost in the past. Poor Regina, couldn’t even give King Leopold another baby, could you? All he wanted was a boy, a real heir to the throne. How sad.” She keeps the space between them minimal, her voice low, growling almost. She’s taking so much satisfaction from this one encounter. “Once you’ve accepted that you want this baby, after you love it so dearly, even though you don’t know who on earth the father could be… oops!” She leans in further, lips almost brushing against Regina’s nose, and whispers, “gone.”_

_Regina glares at her, she’s in disbelief. “You’re sick.”_

_“Isn’t this fun?” She cackles. “I’m going to find the Saviour, and you know what I’m going to do to her, Regina? I’m going to help her fall in love, give her a little push; she’ll be engaged before you know it, to a woman, most likely. A woman who could have so easily been you, if you’d only opened your heart to the poor, little orphan. You missed that opportunity, and so… I’m just going to have to replace you in both of their lives. With luck, Henry will even begin to call her ‘mommy’ in time. Wouldn’t that be lovely? One big, happy family! Hoo-rah for ‘Twu Luv’!”_

_There are tears brimming in Regina’s eyes, but she hastily blinks them away. She can feel the sting from where Zelena’s nails once sat on her cheeks, and her jaw tightens in self-assurance. “I don’t see how that’s a problem. As long as they’re happy, I’m happy. You’re essentially giving them a Happy Ending, not taking it away. Some villain you are.”_

_Snow steps forward, interjecting, “Regina… don’t.” The look on her face proves she’s panicked, terrified of what Zelena will do to her daughter. Regina doesn’t blame her._

_“Oh,” Zelena rests a hand over her heart. “My darling sister, a hero! Who would have thought?” Her voice drops a few octaves, “I’m just getting started, by the way.” She flashes a self-satisfied grin, and leans forward. “I am going to put everything in place, so that both your beloved Saviour and Truest Believer come back into town, but they’re not going to remember you. You’re going to try oh so hard to bring them back, but they won’t want anything to do with you, because they don’t know who you are. And then, you’ll find out about the new missus, the fiancée, she’ll turn up, you’ll witness their little family, and you’ll be so sad.”_

_Regina tries to interrupt. “You—”_

_“—Ah, ah, ah. Not finished.” A smirk spreads across her face, she’s smug, but Regina notices it highlights the crinkles in the corners of her eyes. It makes her look older, sadder, almost. “You won’t know who I am in this new land, you’ll have forgotten all of the past year, so you’ll believe everything you hear is real. I’ll get close to you, get close to your family, and then… I’ll kill you. I’ll kill Emma, and Henry, and maybe this one over here, too.” She motions to Snow, “but you might enjoy that, so maybe not.” Zelena clears her throat, and moves closer to Regina once again. “I’m going to kill them all, right in front of you. I’m thinking something that’ll make them suffer… suffocation? Poison? Burnt to death? Drowned? There are so many pleasing options to choose from. Maybe a different method for each person, yes, that’s an idea. Or maybe…” her eyes light up. “I’ll make **you** kill them, with no rest until the ground is awash with their blood. Afterward, maybe I’ll kill you, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll lock you away, to live with your misery for the rest of your life, or maybe I’ll find a way to go back in time and erase your entire existence. Now, wouldn’t that be ideal?”_

_“You will never get away with this,” Regina snarls. Frustration bubbles inside of her. She conjures a fireball in her hand, and allows it to grow as big as she possibly can. “I’ll make sure of it.”_

_Another smirk. “But I already have, dear,” and without time to respond, she’s gone._

 

…

 

With a burst of inner, emotional strength, Regina succeeds to lift her head, and make eye contact with Emma. She hastily wipes the fallen tears from her cheeks, undoubtedly smearing mascara across her face, but at this moment in time, she couldn’t care less. “I…” she swallows audibly. She’s always so put together, so pristine, but now, she’s nothing more than broken, and Regina knows Emma can see that. Her eyes draw to the gentle rise and fall of Emma’s shoulders as she breathes, and it strangely calms her somewhat. “I don’t think you’ll understand.”

 

“Try me,” Emma reaches to push a piece of hair from Regina’s cheek, stuck from the tears that had fallen earlier. “Please?”

 

Regina takes a deep breath. “I—I… I’m not…” she shakes her head, eyes lowering to her hands which begin to pick at her cuticles nervously. Her hands are trembling, in fact, her entire body still is, it’s as if she’s cold, but she isn’t, she’s in complete shock. “My…” she starts, but can’t seem to continue. The words aren’t flowing as easily as they used to, and she’s not sure whether she’s strong enough to say them out loud yet, because if she doesn’t say them out loud, she can ignore it. She can continue on and pretend like everything is okay, even though it’s not, because she hasn’t acknowledged the situation.

 

“I’m here,” a small smile spreads across her face. It’s warm, and Emma takes Regina’s hand in her own, brushing her thumb over the back of it, for support.

 

Regina frowns slightly, eyes narrowing. She sees Emma. She sees the real Emma. It’s just a flicker, but there’s something behind Emma’s eyes that makes her feel as if she knows more than she’s letting on, or maybe it’s just Regina’s imagination playing tricks on her. “I-I… I’m not pregnant,” she blurts out. “They lied to me. This is all Zelena’s doing.” Her eyes fill with tears again, and she shakes her head, swallowing the lump in her throat. There are more pressing matters to deal with at the moment, and the pregnancy isn’t one of them, so she pushes the pain to the side. “We… we must have broken the curse… somehow, and now I remember everything. Everyone in the town’s memories should be back, but… this…” she whimpers slightly. “You… we need you. We need you to defeat Zelena, that’s why we’re back, that’s why we’re here. Light magic, good magic, it can defeat her.”

 

Emma just blinks at her.

 

“We must find the others.”

 

After what feels like forever (yet, it’s only been forty minutes), the six of them are gathered around the fire in Regina’s house—Snow, Charming, Henry, Belle, and of course, Regina and Emma. It’s almost like a family reunion. Whilst sharing thoughts on what they can do to deter Zelena from killing, Regina and Snow share concerned glances toward each other every so often, both sitting with their respective children. (Though, whilst Regina can hold Henry’s hand, smile, and converse normally with him, Snow can’t do the same. Emma looks positively traumatised).

 

“Are you okay, Emma?” Snow asks, leaning forward slightly to attain a better view of Emma’s face. She’s itching to take her hand, to take her into her arms, stroke her hair, and tell her she loves her—Regina can tell, because she has that same look on her face that Snow was donning in the hospital, only it’s much more severe.

 

The blonde jumps slightly, shocked at the sudden attention, and all she manages to get out is a quiet “mhm.” It’s really a mumble, but it gets her point across. She readjusts her position on the couch, reaffirming her personal space, and glances to Regina.

 

“So, how did the curse break?” Henry chimes in, and the others nod their heads in agreement of his question. “Like, was it random? Or did something happen? Because I bet that’s how we’re gonna beat Zelena!”

 

Emma frowns. “Henry, this isn’t real. None of this is real.” It’s almost as if she’s trying to convince herself.

 

“Yeah, it is, ma. You’re just confused, because your memory isn’t back yet. But, don’t worry,” he grins, and pulls his legs up onto the couch. “It’s gonna come back, I just know it.” He turns his attention to Regina, whose eyes are glaring at the filthy shoes touching her furniture. “Oops,” he pulls them off. “Sorry mom.”

 

She nods once. “The matter of how or why we have our memories back isn’t inherent to our plan. I believe it’s best if we come up with separate ideas, which we discuss, and then collectively decide on the most efficient one.”

 

“I’m gonna throw a bucket of water over her head.” Henry announces, proudly. “What?” He asks, when the entire room turns to look at him. “It’s what Dorothy did in the movie.”

 

“This isn’t a movie, Henry,” Regina gently scolds. “It’s real life. And it’ll all seem very real when one of us is dead. Thus, ideas are welcomed.”

 

Charming pipes up this time, “do we even know who she is?” It’s a solid question, and Regina isn’t quite prepared to answer that, because honestly, she doesn’t know. “She could be wearing a disguise, she could even be one of us.”

 

A round of “mm”s circle the room, each person becoming a little more aware of whom they’re sitting next to.

 

“Nobody’s really different, David,” Belle cuts in. “Everyone is the same, same personality, same voice, same mannerisms. We would notice the difference in body language, and so on.” She pushes a piece of hair behind her ear, and looks around the room, eyes stopping on Emma. “Apart from…”

 

The blonde isn’t even paying attention, her eyes are transfixed on her phone like she’s fifteen years old, and concentrates as she speedily types away a message to someone of, what looks to be, great importance. When the room goes silent, she looks up to realise everybody is observing her, “uh…? Hi?”

 

“She doesn’t have her memories, that can’t count.” Snow touches Emma’s arm gently, “my daughter is not Zelena!”

 

An awkward silence thickens the air, as the group share uncertain glances with each other. Regina observes. Belle crosses her leg over the other, while Snow wraps her cardigan a little tighter around her body, and leans closer to the fire. Charming shoots an assertive smile to Henry, who responds similarly, albeit a little unsure of himself. And then there’s Emma, who isn’t conversing with anybody, in fact, she doesn’t even acknowledge that there’s anybody else in the room. Her gaze is fixated on the ceiling, surreptitiously glancing to her phone whenever it buzzes.

 

The kiss she and Emma shared flickers into Regina’s mind, and she can’t stop herself from smiling. It was sudden, unexpected, maybe, but real, and if what Regina believes is true, then there is no possible way Emma could be Zelena. “No.”

 

“No?” Three of them echo together, though Regina doesn’t make an effort to pinpoint which ones.

 

She dismisses the idea with a wave of her hand, “Emma isn’t Zelena. It isn’t possible.”

 

“Maybe I am.” Emma shrugs, and looks away from the phone. For the first time, she pays attention to the people in the room. Her eyes glance around them, and she takes a deep breath. “With all this magic crap, or whatever, if it’s real… who knows what she can do? She might be like… I dunno. Maybe you shouldn’t trust me.”

 

“Ms. Swan. As, I said, it’s impossible. End of conversation.” It comes out much harsher than expected, more of a snap, than an ordinary response. She immediately feels the guilt build in the pit of her stomach, but she knows, for a fact, that Emma is neither Zelena, nor is she being controlled by Zelena in any given way.

 

“It was a suggestion,” she counters. “And don’t call me that.”

 

Henry coughs slightly to capture the attention of the group, “uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “What if Zelena is controlling ma? Like, with her heart. How…” he clears his throat again. He motions to Regina. “You used to do it, mom.”

 

Images of Graham flitter in and out of her mind. Regina was insanely jealous. She believed Graham was hers, no one else’s, and that was the problem. Although, looking back, it’s entirely possible that she was more jealous of Graham, being with Emma, than she was of Emma being with Graham. “It isn’t possible, Henry.” She shakes her head. “Believe me. I know.”

 

Charming sits forward in his seat, “what do you mean, Regina? Do you have proof?” He pats Henry’s shoulders in an attempt to cheer him up, but Henry just flinches slightly, and watches Regina.

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s all she says, and it leaves them all feeling perplexed at what she means. Regina doesn’t want to tell them, she doesn’t want to explain that she and Emma may have shared True Love’s kiss, and if that is so, then 1. She isn’t Zelena, and 2. She isn’t being controlled by Zelena (especially with her heart).

 

“It’s private,” she adds. “Between Emma and me. It’s something we don’t feel the need to discuss. Not now.”

 

Surprisingly, everyone accepts it. No one questions it further, because Regina and Emma share a look that proves Regina to be telling the truth, even though Emma doesn’t quite know what the hell is going on. They continue to discuss ways to break Zelena. Some suggestions may have promise, like actually having the two sisters talk to each other, rather than fighting about the entirely ridiculous situation. Other suggestions are locking her up, or even binding her magic, so that she can’t hurt anyone. They don’t want to physically hurt Zelena, if possible, although Regina is anticipating bloodshed between them, she can feel it.

 

During the conversation, Regina turns her attention fully to Emma, as the others continue to talk. In a hushed, agitated tone, she asks, “what is that incessantly, irritating, buzzing sound?”

 

“My… phone?” Emma holds it up, showing the older woman, as if she’s never seen one before. “I’m texting.”

 

“Whom?” She immediately asks, and fears that she may be coming on too strong. She clears her throat, and repeats it again, calmer.  

 

Emma’s face lights up. “Anna. She’s on her way here, actually.” A pause. “Damn, I forgot. I should’ve asked. Is that okay?”

 

“You invited her? Here?” Regina frowns, not bothering to hide her disappointment. “I…” She swallows the quickly forming lump in her throat, and inwardly commands herself not to get upset. “Yes… yes, I suppose so.” She clearly her throat, and tries to come off as coolly as possible. She forces a smile. “So, that thing earlier… was nothing? Just a kiss?”

 

“If you want it to just be that,” Emma shrugs. “Sure…”

 

Regina’s heart drops. That’s the last thing she wanted to hear. Her stomach twists and turns into knots, and she curls one of her hands into a fist. All she wants to do is retaliate, to tell Emma what she really thinks, but she can’t allow herself to get flustered over something of such little importance (well, that’s what she’s telling herself), especially when they have Zelena to worry about. After all, “love is weakness, Regina,” and the last thing she wants to seem, in present company, is weak. At least the anger and hurt would be good for one thing—she’s going to focus it all on killing her sister, before her sister decides to kill one of them.

 

Regina nods once, stiffly. “Oh. Yes. I do.” She turns away from Emma, and focuses in on the situation at hand.

 

“I still think we should try pouring a bucket of water over her head,” Henry grins. He shoves his hand in his jeans pocket and pulls out a pack of bubble-gum, and unwraps one, sticking it into his mouth. “Because that would be super cool if it actually worked. Why would they put that in the movie, if it weren’t true? Come on! Can’t that be one of the options? Please?”

 

Belle nods, agreeing. “I’ve read about her story, I don’t believe it would hurt to try. Surely, it would only be logical to try something of which has supposedly worked before?”

 

“We can try.” Regina affirms.

 

All of a sudden, Emma jolts up from her seat as she hears the doorbell ring. “I’ll get that.” A smile spreads across her face.

 

Regina’s eyes follow her as she leaves the room, and then she rolls them slightly. “She’s like a teenager.” She folds her arms over her chest, and purses her lips; she waits for the arrival of the infamous Anna she’s heard almost nothing about. In fact, Emma had never mentioned her since Regina had spotted the ring. “Or a puppy, overly excited about nothing. It’s ridiculous. She should really learn to calm down.”

 

Snow and Belle raise their eyebrows at this. Charming is too busy sipping his drink to notice, but the other two adults do. The air is thick with jealousy, thick with annoyance, and Regina can’t seem to hide the fact it’s stemming all from her.

 

“Is it Anna, mom?” Henry’s face lights up, and he moves to sit on the edge of the couch.

 

Regina just nods. She braces herself for the big family reunion that’s about to occur in her lounge, in her house, with her family. It should be her in Anna’s place, but it’s not, because she was too late. Belle’s words echo in her head like an old clock, stuck at midnight-soul mates, “you have to work for them”.

 

“Awesome,” he beams. His hand reaches for the glass of juice on the coffee table, and he sips it. “She’s actually really nice, you’ll all love her. She loves me. I’m her favourite. Don’t tell ma.”

 

“I’m confused.” Snow interrupts, absentmindedly smoothing out the creases in her skirt. “Who are we talking about? Who is Anna?”

 

Regina’s voice drops a few octaves, clearly irritated by it all. “Your daughter’s fiancée.”

 

“Her what?” Snow and Charming respond at exactly the same time, and frantically look to one another, before turning back to Regina. “She’s engaged?”

 

Regina shrugs, acting blasé about the entire situation, “it appears so.”

 

“Without telling us?”

 

“She doesn’t have to run everything by you.” Regina looks at her nails, trying to distract herself from staring expectedly at the door. “She’s an adult, and besides, she doesn’t know who you are. I’m sure if she did, you two would be the first ones to know, after Henry, of course.”

 

Emma walks back through the door, ushering the girl inside with her, and smiles to the group. “Uh, Anna this is… everyone. Everyone, this is Anna.” She turns to her fiancée, “you wanna sit?” Emma motions to the couch, and heads for it, sitting down, and making herself comfortable. “These are the people I’ve been working for, for the past week.”

 

“Hello," Anna begins. "How is everyone?”

 

Regina doesn’t turn to look yet, but she can feel the middle of her forehead crumple in confusion. That voice. It carries an unexpected chill with it, which makes its way up Regina’s back, provoking an unanticipated shudder. The entire room is silent, nobody answers the question, and nobody dares move a muscle.

 

Snow’s face, though fair to begin with, is positively the palest Regina has ever seen it. The younger woman’s fingers dance at the hem of her cardigan, eyes lowered, and feet crossed at her ankles. Similarly, Belle has changed position. She seems to have edged to the other side of the armchair; she’s perching on the side farthest away from where Henry, Emma and Anna are sitting. Her eyes are fixated in the direction of the three of them, and she begins to absentmindedly pick at her nails. Charming, on the other hand, has his fingers resting on the holster of his jeans, splayed across the gun, in case of any sudden, unsuspected movement.

 

“Anna, hey!” Henry exclaims.

 

There's movement. Regina tentatively turns her head, witnessing Henry embracing the stranger. She swallows in anticipation, as her son pulls away from the hug, grins at her, and sits back down. The red hair immediately confirms her suspicions. Her eyes narrow almost robotically, and she instinctively pulls her right hand around to rest in her lap. She’s prepared to throw a fireball at any second, and scorch her to death right there, in front of her son, in front of the woman who she thinks she loves (the woman who seems to be in love with her sister). “Zelena.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think about this chapter in the comments. Is this what you were expecting? What do you think of the two "big reveals"? (The baby and Anna). I'd really love to know what your reactions are to this chapter. Again, please don't hate me!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments, they really mean the world to me. I'm so happy that everyone is enjoying this story as much as I'm enjoying writing it. Let me know what you think of this one!

The room is still. The air is thick, ripe with an essence of discomfort. The sound of Regina’s voice bounces off the walls, three syllables long, and undoubtedly reaches all of the ears in the room. Everyone tentatively looks around the room to scope out what the others are feeling, they’re wary, suspicious of Zelena’s involvement in both Emma and Henry’s lives. Regina’s gaze falls upon the fire, thinking about the questions colliding in her head, pushing and shoving against the others in a battle of who is the most important. What is Zelena’s plan? Will she hurt Henry? Will she hurt Emma? Who will Emma believe? Who does Emma love? She sighs inaudibly, and begins to rub small circles into her temple with her two forefingers. This cannot be happening. Emma’s fiancée is her sister, and if Zelena wasn’t aware that all of their memories had returned, she is now, and that’s bad news for everyone.

 

Regina looks up, she catches a hint of confusion contorting Zelena’s face, but behind the façade, she can practically see the cogs shifting and turning because Zelena’s hastily trying to figure out how she can come out of this situation with both Emma and Henry on her side. She wants to lull Emma into another false sense of security, like she obviously had done in New York—it’s just how she’s going to do it, is the problem Regina is faced with.

 

“I’m sorry…?” The misunderstanding lingers on Zelena’s lips, gradually spreading across her entire face, but it’s false, Regina can tell. This isn’t someone who just looks like her sister, who sounds like her sister; this is Zelena, there’s no doubt about it, and Regina’s perplexed to as why her sister didn’t use a cloaking spell to fool them for longer. (It’s certainly what she would have done).

 

Emma’s forehead crumples into multiple, little lines, as she studies Regina for a moment. “I don’t…” she says, and shares a puzzled glance with Zelena, shakes her head, and turns back to Regina for an explanation. “Understand.”

 

“Your fiancée’s real name is Zelena,” Regina clears her throat quietly. Her lips purse, “and she’s my sister.”

 

The blonde shakes her head again, “what the hell are you talking about?” She sits forward in her seat, and slides her hand over to protectively rest on top of Zelena’s. Regina watches as her sister takes the opportunity to squeeze it gently in reassurance. “Anna… is not your sister. She doesn’t even have a sister. You don’t even look alike! You said before you didn’t even know what your sister looked like, you didn’t even know her last name, and now you’re trying to pin the blame on Anna? She’s not the villain,” she spits out, disbelievingly. “That you’ve been looking for in your world. Anna’s been in New York with me for the past eight months, she hasn’t been in this town, she’s never even heard of this stupid town.” Emma takes a breath, stares straight at Regina, and says, “and I love her.”

 

Regina feels herself flinch somewhat. Emma added that on purpose to hurt her, and it feels like she’s been punched in the stomach, but she swallows away the sharp blow. It isn’t possible for Zelena to make Emma love her, because of the rules of magic: no bringing anybody back from the dead, no travelling through time, and no making somebody love you. Thus, Emma’s either innately in love with Zelena, or she’s lying through her teeth. “I’m sure you do, but that isn’t the point I’m trying to make, Emma,” she bites. “The point is, is that this is the person we’ve been looking for, together, and just because you love her doesn’t mean that she hasn’t been lying to you about who she really is. Loving her doesn’t automatically make her innocent, that’s just foolish.”

 

“Mom…?” Henry cuts in, and Regina turns her attention to him. He slides off the couch, glances cautiously to Emma and Zelena, and manoeuvres his way over to the armchair where Regina is sitting, without venturing near his aunt. “Is she…?”

 

She knows what he wants to ask; he wants to ask whether all of this is true, if Anna is really Zelena, if his mother had fallen in love with his mother’s sister. She sighs softly, “yes, sweetheart. It’s true.”

 

“Oh,” it’s barely audible. His mood visibly crumbles, devastations diffusing across his face. “But…” he frowns. “She was so—”

 

“We will talk about this later, dear. Now isn’t the time, alright?” She sends him a small, genuine smile, and reaches out to take one of his hands with her left one. (She’s keeping her right hand free in case of an emergency; she’s always been more of a right-handed fireball thrower than a left). “Don’t worry,” she whispers back, and a nod is all she gets in return, but it’s enough.

 

“Excuse me,” Zelena speaks up. Regina notices that she does look different somehow. Her hair is loose, framing her face in tight, red curls—one side is tucked behind her ear, the other free to hide a small piece of her face. She looks softer, her voice is gentler, and without the crazy outfits and snarl, she practically looks normal, timid, shy, and definitely not as rambunctious as the Wicked Witch of the West. But that’s what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to portray somebody else, to force another identity onto those around her in order to trap them when the time is right. “But I have never met you before in my life,” she lies.

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “Of course you would say that, anyone pretending to be somebody else would say that. You’re lying, Zelena,” she smirks knowingly and turns her head to face Emma. “Can’t you see? Use your superpower. She isn’t who she says she is. She’s lying through the back of her teeth. It’s quite amusing to watch, actually.”

 

“She’s not lying,” Emma announces. The others frown in bewilderment. “She isn’t. I know she isn’t. I’ve known Anna for eight months, that’s seven months and three weeks more than I’ve known any of you. I just… I don’t know you. At all.”

 

Regina looks to their son. “But you know Henry, and why would Henry believes ‘strangers’ over his own mother if everything were okay?” She turns back to Emma, “he wouldn’t. You know he wouldn’t. He’s smarter than that, smarter than most of the children in his grade. He is not gullible enough to believe us over you, if he didn’t know us already.” She takes a breath, leaning forward slightly, “don’t you see, Emma? She’s clouding your better judgement. She’s taking away who you are in order to use it against you later. If you can’t believe us, then believe our son. Believe Henry. Believe in the possibility that we all may just be right, and you may be wrong.”

 

“Ma…” it comes with a sad smile, Henry’s desperate. “Please believe mom.” His voice cracks gently, it’s as if he’s going to cry, but with a quick glance, Regina rules out that option.

 

Emma stands, clearly irritated. “She isn’t you mom! I am! I’ve been putting up with this crap all week because I actually thought I might get paid after all of this. That obviously isn’t happening anymore. You’re all bat shit crazy, you really are. I’m not going to believe in some stupid fairy tales about a Prince and a Princess and an Evil Queen, because that’s just…” She takes a breath, “crazy. We’re leaving. We’re going back to New York. Come on, Henry.”

 

“He isn’t going with you.” Regina tightens her grip on Henry’s hand. There is absolutely no way in hell that she is going to allow Henry to leave Storybrooke, especially not while Emma’s in the company of her sister (who wants to kill them all). “You are not taking him away from me,” she stands, positioning herself in front of Henry to protect him. “If you want to leave, go ahead, but Henry is staying here, with me, with us.”

 

“Go to hell, lady.” Emma steps forward, almost nose-to-nose with Regina, and grits her teeth. “He’s my kid.”

 

Regina chooses not to retaliate, “he’s not. He’s ours. But at the minute? He’s mine; you’re acting so ridiculous that you’re unknowingly putting your needs in front of Henry’s, and I’m not okay with that. None of us are.” She takes a deep breath, calming herself. “Henry is everything to me, and you know that.” Regina shakes her head, pausing for a moment. “Dig deep, Emma, as deep as you can. You know. You know all of this is true. You know magic is real, you know the curse is real, and you know Zelena is the one standing right beside you, holding your hand. Don’t push that belief away, let it overcome you, let it fill your head with real memories, not the ones I created for you. It’s important.”

 

“We need you,” Snow chimes in, standing too. “Emma, we love you. So much.”

 

Charming stands, taking Snow’s hand, and swallows. “We can’t have you leave again. Stay. Stay with us. We have an extra bedroom, we still have some of your things, even.” Charming laughs dismally, “it’s all just waiting for you…”

 

“What the hell are you people on? Is the water here laced with LSD or something? Am I dreaming?” She backs away, returning to Zelena’s side, who Regina notices, has a subtle smirk on her face that Emma doesn’t see. “You’re all worse than the fucking Mad Hatter, Jesus Christ.”

 

Snow clings onto hope that isn’t even there for the rest of them, “you remember? Emma, you remember Jeffers—?”

 

“Snow,” Charming shakes his head and squeezes her hand in reassurance. His voice is quiet, soft, “just a… comparison. They’re stories too, remember? Emma’s seen Alice in Wonderland. It’s her favourite.”

 

“Henry.” Emma says. It’s forceful, and it provokes a natural reaction in Henry to move, but Regina stays strong. She doesn’t let him go to her, she holds onto his hand as tightly as possible without hurting him. If Henry goes, then she’s going to go with them, and she’s not going to let him out of her sight. “For God’s sake, come on. You need to understand that these people have something wrong with them; they have a mental illness, kid. None of this, what they’re saying, ever happened. We have to go. I’m done with this.”

 

“No, ma.” He defies, “I’m staying here. With mom, my grandmas and grandpa. You should listen to them, they know more than you think.”

 

Regina catches Belle smile out of the corner of her eye, she assumes it’s the first time Henry has referred to her as ‘grandma’, and she shoots a gentle smile to the other woman before turning back to face Emma and Zelena. “He’s made his decision. Now, you either stay here, or you leave without him. Your choice.”

 

Emma looks at Zelena, then back to Henry, and then back to Zelena again. It looks as if she’s torn, but she’s makes a choice, “come on, Anna. We’re leaving,” and with that, they’re gone.

 

The entire room falls into a despondent silence. The only noise is the consistent crackling of the fireplace, the wood continues to burn, unfazed by what has just occurred. With nothing to focus their energy on, all five of them slump into their chairs; defeated by the one person they all believed would be on their side, Emma, and now, because of her indignation, all sense of any hope has dissipated along with their confidence of survival.

 

Regina’s jaw tightens. “How could Emma leave Henry in the hands of—whom she believes to be—strangers? It makes absolutely no sense at all. She’s not herself, it’s like she’s…”

 

“Being controlled?” Belle speaks up, the earlier smile now replaced with a frown.

 

“No,” Henry shakes his head. “She’s just in love. I saw them…” a shrug. “In New York. They really love each other, or maybe ma just loves Ann—” he sighs, and corrects himself, “Zelena. Maybe ma loves her more than she loves me.”

 

Regina raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “Henry, what have I told you? Your mother loves you more than anything in the world; never forget that… do you understand?” He nods in response, and Regina turns properly to him. “I think… your mother is just… on the defensive, as they call it, at the minute. She doesn’t want to believe us, so she can’t fully believe us, but I think there’s something there. There’s a spark that needs to be reignited inside of her, and… how we’re going to achieve that, I’m not sure, but there’s definitely hope there.” Her eyes travel around the room, locking with each of the adults, who all look equally as drained as the next. Even Snow and Charming look as if they’ve lost all hope. “I promised you I would get her back, and I will.” She clears her throat, “there is no possible way Emma would leave Storybrooke without taking you with her. I can assure you that she’s not just going to up and leave, alright?”

 

Henry nods again. “Okay, but…”

 

“No buts,” she smiles, and taps the end of his nose with her index finger. “I know her, just like I know you. You’re both too stubborn to leave people you love behind so easily.”

 

Snow pipes up, “what if Zelena hurts her? Shouldn’t we be going after them?”

 

“Emma can handle herself,” Regina says as she shakes her head knowingly. “Besides, light magic is the only way of defeating her, and Emma is the epitome of that. If Zelena even tries to hurt Emma, I have no doubt that Emma’s instincts will be to fight, and with instincts, comes belief, and with belief, comes intuitive magic.”

 

“So, what do we do now?” Charming rests one of his ankles on the top of his other knee, and drapes his arm around the back of Snow’s shoulders. “Wait?”

 

“I suppose that’s all there is to do,” Regina says, and smiles to reassure them all that she has the utmost confidence in Emma being able to come to her senses, when really, inside, she’s petrified.

 

Later, Regina insists they all stay for dinner. She whips up a three-course meal, soup for an appetiser, lasagne for the entrée, and her infamous apple turnover for dessert (no poison this time). They all eat and talk, gathered around the dining table, troubles disappearing just for an hour or so, and it’s nice—it’s really nice.

 

Regina’s missed this, missed this kind of interaction with everybody, because in the past few months, and in the year they spent in the Enchanted Forest, she had mostly secluded herself from the world. Without Henry, she was nothing, and she couldn’t enjoy a moment there deprived of him. So, she isolated herself. It was the best solution at the time, though she now realises it was probably the worst thing she could have done. While everybody else in the Kingdom continued on with their lives (after a small adjustment period), she hardly ever found the strength to do anything. She only managed to show herself to keep up pretences that she was doing just fine, and of course, whenever Zelena showed up, she was strong, and ready to fight, never showing any weakness whatsoever.

 

“Time for bed, Henry,” Regina says with a small smile as she sets her knife and fork down together on the side of her plate. She anticipates the eye-roll before it even comes, and speaks once more before Henry can even think about objecting. “I’ll be up in a moment.”

 

There’s a nod. He says his goodnights, and heads on up the stairs to bed.

 

“Please go on through to the lounge,” she stands. “I’ll make us all some tea before I go up to check on Henry.” She watches everybody leave the dining room, muffles of a continued conversation following them, and she begins to collect all of the dirty dishes to bring into the kitchen. She puts on a pot of tea, and heads on upstairs to see her son to sleep.

 

Regina gently pushes open the door to see Henry, sitting on his bed in his pyjamas, with the book open in his lap. He’s flicking through it, eyes scanning over the mixture of letters and images spread across each page. The floor creaks, and he looks up. “Hey.”

 

A smile. “Hi.” She sits on the edge of his bed, eyes transfixed on the book. “Are you alright, darling?” Her hands instinctively rise to run her hands affectionately through the curls of his hair. He really needs a haircut, she thinks, but shakes her head subtly to focus on the situation at hand, rather than on something that isn’t inherently important.

 

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “I’m fine, just… I don’t understand why the book didn’t work. You tried hard, right?”

 

Regina nods, “I’m sorry. It just wouldn’t work, it wouldn’t cooperate, and I don’t know why.” She frowns, and cocks her head slightly in interest. “Do you?”

 

“Don’t think so,” Henry closes the book and sets it on his side table. His hands reach out to push the covers down so that he can slide his legs over, and smiles sadly at his mother. “Maybe ma will never get her memories back. Could that happen?”

 

“No,” she answers immediately, almost without thinking. “Well, yes, it could, I suppose. But it won’t. We’ll find a way, I promise.”

 

He sighs. “But what if we don’t? What if there’s no way to get them back? What if nothing works?” He rests his head back on the pillow, “maybe that’s just… fate. Maybe she’s happier with those memories and not the other ones ‘cause then she didn’t have me. Maybe her mind’s like… resisting or something. Maybe she doesn’t want to remember.

 

“She does, darling.” Regina lifts the covers slightly, pulling them further up for him. “I know she does.”

 

“But, how?” He questions, turning onto his side to face Regina. “How do you know that? Or are you just guessing?” His eyes squint slightly in disbelief.

 

She shakes her head, leans down and presses a chaste kiss to his head. “Because I see flickers of the real Emma in her, just… private moments, where I see someone other than the person whose memories are all muddled up. I see… Emma. She’s in there somewhere, I know she is. Besides, she always falters when she denies what she ought to believe, and between you and me…” Regina rubs her thumb soothingly over Henry’s cheek. “I think she already believes in magic,” she whispers, a content smile spreading across her face.

 

His face glows, and he pushes himself up onto his elbows. “Really? Did you show her? Has she seen you do magic? Is that how the curse was broken?”

 

“No,” she shakes her head. “She hasn’t seen me do magic. I don’t believe so anyway. I… I can’t perform magic at the minute without feeling dreadfully weak, except…” Regina swallows, and locks eyes with an expectant Henry. “Emma and I performed magic, without even knowing we were doing it. She wasn’t aware of it, of course, but I was, and I didn’t feel weak at all. In fact—”

 

“You and ma did magic?” He interrupts, “like you did in Neverland?”

 

“We did, yes,” she starts. She’s thinking about the moment when it happened, how she felt, and it’s all coming back to her. “It wasn’t… we didn’t mean to. It occurred when I was trying to help Emma to remember, she was spilling all this information about the day you left with new memories, when we were saying goodbye. We were holding hands,” Henry wrinkles his nose at this, but Regina continues, pretending that she hasn’t noticed, “and the magic between us. I could feel it. It was pouring out from our hands. But… the strange thing is, is that I wasn’t meaning to use magic, and I’m sure Emma wasn’t either.”

 

Henry stays quiet for a moment, but then speaks up, “how can that happen?”

 

“I have no idea. Unless…” an idea sparks into her head. The magic, the kiss—maybe they’re related somehow. “Magic is… it can be provoked by emotion, usually a large amount of a specific emotion, such as anger, for example,” or love, she wants to say. But she doesn’t, she doesn’t want Henry to know, she doesn’t want anyone to know, not really, because Emma’s with Zelena, and apparently she loves her. How wonderful.

 

“So which emotion was it then?” He pokes, smiling, and although he has no idea what Regina’s thinking, she’s concerned. “You look like you just figured somethin’ out, mom.”

 

“It’s… it’s nothing, Henry.”

 

“But mom…” he whines. “That’s not fair. C’mon, just tell me. I can totally handle anything.”

 

“You’re awfully talkative tonight, aren’t you?” She laughs, “come on, lie back down. It’s late, and I think it’s time you get some sleep. We’ll speak about all of this in the morning, sweetheart.”

 

Henry does as she says, lies back down and rests his head on the pillow, but he doesn’t break eye contact with Regina. He smiles tenderly, and says, “night mom, love you,” tailed by a yawn.

 

“I love you too, Henry,” is all that follows, before she slips out of the room and heads back downstairs to the kitchen.

 

After loading the dishwasher, serving tea, and engaging in a cluster of conversations she isn’t exactly interested in, she makes her way back into the kitchen to begin manually drying the clean dishes. Regina can’t help but allow her mind to wander, about Emma, about Henry, and about Zelena. She can’t help but allow it to wander to the possible situations Emma and Zelena are finding themselves in at the moment. Maybe they’re on their way back to New York, maybe they rented a room at Granny’s, but Regina honestly can’t pull herself together to even pick up the phone to find out. She doesn’t care. (Or that’s what she’s telling herself). Emma and Zelena can do what they want, they’re adults, adults unbounded by rules or laws in this town. She can’t help but wonder whether Emma’s thinking about what Regina’s feeling right now.

 

She grits her teeth. Maybe she’s not thinking about her at all, at least not in a positive way. What if she’s thinking about coming back and trying to hurt her? What if she’s thinking about helping Zelena with her mission? Hundreds of unanswerable questions flit in and out of Regina’s head. What if they’re kissing right now? What if they’re having sex? Her jaw tightens. She’s imaging Zelena kissing Emma, pushing her against the wall, hands wandering, teeth clashing together, material ripping, and she squeezes her eyes together so tightly that she thinks she may faint.

 

Maybe Emma told Zelena about their kiss. Maybe they’re arguing. Maybe Zelena’s angry that she would cheat on her. Regina doesn’t give a damn, she hopes Zelena is angry, she hopes Zelena is so angry that she breaks up with Emma and vows to never see her again. However, she can’t see that happening. Zelena isn’t in love with Emma, she’s using love as a toy, she’s using it to reel Emma in, to keep Emma on her side, so that she can utilise her force against the rest of them. But Regina knows Emma’s smarter than that. Her superpower must be ringing off the hook around Zelena, especially now that she pointed out who she really is. She’ll be suspicious, suspicious of anything odd or abnormal, and Regina’s hoping it kicks in faster than she thinks it’s going to.

 

There it is again. Zelena and Emma kissing. Zelena kissing her Emma, (not that she believes she owns Emma, or that Emma belong to her, but she is—definitely, maybe, possibly—her True Love, not Zelena’s). She can imagine the blonde’s muffled moan against Zelena’s neck, her gasp of surprise when Zelena trails her fingers down Emma’s torso, her strength when she changes positions so that Emma’s in charge. She imagines Zelena’s face between Emma’s thighs, arm resting behind her head, the other resting on Zelena’s curls; the moans, the gasps, the little bites of her lip, the way her face contorts into pure pleasure as Zelena brings her to the edge a few times, and then finally, her climax…

 

There’s a smash, which whips her out of her trance. Regina looks down to see glass engulfing the floor. She frowns, she didn’t even realise she’d dropped anything made of glass, never mind something so large to birth so many small pieces. Without thinking, she cautiously steps over the mess, and grabs a broom, and begins to mindlessly sweep it up.

 

“Regina?” A voice, too wary to be anyone but Snow, fills the silent room with sound. “I heard something… crash.” She takes another few tentative steps into the kitchen, and rests her hand on one of Regina’s forearms. “Are you alright?”

 

The older woman nods, evading eye contact as much as she can, “yes. I’m fine, dear.” She moves away from Snow, and continues sweeping up the glass into a neatly formed pile in the corner, ready to transfer into the trash.

 

“Sure?” Snow pushes, “I don’t… you don’t look fine. Maybe you should sit down.” Regina feels Snow take her by the hands, and guide her over to the seats at the island. She helps her sit, and Regina watches as Snow quickly scans the floor for any remaining pieces of shattered glass. Once confident that it’s clear, she joins Regina at the island, sitting on her own stool, and studies her face. “What’s the matter?”

 

 

Regina shakes her head. “Nothing,” she snaps, and rolls her eyes subtly. “I’m fine. I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about.” She reaches over, and takes an apple into her hand, rolling it around in her fingers. She studies it for what seems like a while, and then smiles sadly, “I see you’ve found a tolerance for apples?”

 

“I’m finally getting the hang of eating them without having flashbacks,” she laughs, and Regina joins her. “But you and I both know that you’re deflecting. You can talk to me Regina, I won’t judge.”

 

“I know,” is all that manages to come out.

 

Snow nods. She swallows inaudibly. “Is it… are you upset about the baby? I know you were… happy about him, in one way or another, even if you deny it right now. I know you cared for him. Is that why you’re upset?”

 

“He was never a him, Snow, don’t be so naïve.” Regina takes a breath, digging her nail into the skin of the apple, and looks up to lock eyes with the younger woman. “There was never a him, it was all a lie. A lie to crush me, to hurt me until I’m broken.” A small, dejected laugh escapes from her mouth, and she mutters, “must run in the family.”

 

“It’s…” Snow sighs, and pauses, thinking about what to say. “It’s a difficult position to be in. I can’t say I know how you feel, because I’ve never been in it, I’ve never had this happen to me… but, Regina…” she reaches out to rest a hand over the top of Regina’s. “You have a son, you have Henry, and once upon a time, he was all you needed to be happy. He was, and still is, your happiness. You can’t give in to the darkness, just because your sister played a disgusting prank on you. We need to stop her, and we honestly, can’t do that without you.”

 

Regina’s eyes begin to water uncontrollably. “It was all fake. I’m so stupid to have not realised that. I knew,” her voice cracks in grief. “I knew when Whale told me how many weeks it was, that there was something wrong with that. I knew he must have been lying, deep inside, I knew. And I was too damn stupid to address it.”

 

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” she shakes her head. “It isn’t right. None of this is your fault.”

 

“Isn’t it?” Her voice is a little higher than Snow’s heard for a very long time. The last time she sounded like this, was when she was young, when Snow first met her, that day near the stables. “I cast the curse… I did all of this,” she waves her hand in the air to emphasise. “If I hadn’t, Zelena may not have brought you all into this, maybe it would have just been me that she attacked, and maybe this would all be over by now.”

 

Snow clears her throat, closing her eyes momentarily, and forces herself to say what she needs to say. “If you’re going to suggest that this situation could have been stopped by you not casting the curse, we could say it could have been stopped, if only I hadn’t told your mother about Daniel.”

 

“Don’t,” she growls. “Don’t bring Daniel into this. Please.”

 

“Or it could even go back further than that, something to do with your mother. You see what I’m trying to say, Regina? There are so many things that could have stopped this situation from happening, but none of those things did happen.” Snow squeezes Regina’s hand to make her look at her face again, and she smiles at her. There are tears falling down Regina’s cheeks, but she’s trying so hard to stop herself from crying. “This is where we are, and we can’t change it, so we have to deal with the present, instead of looking back at our mistakes in the past.”

 

Regina clears her throat, swallowing the imagined lump in the back of it. “I suppose you’re right.” She lifts her free hand to her face, and wipes some of the tears onto the back of her hand. “It’s just… my life, my entire existence, has been controlled by somebody other than myself. I have never had control of my own life, until I brought us all here, to Storybrooke, the place where I believed I would get my happy ending.” She chokes on her tears somewhat, but shakes her head when Snow suggests she should catch her breath first. “My mother, your father, Rumplestiltskin, the Kingdom…” Her breath hitches in her throat, “and… for my entire life, I’ve felt like a prisoner. A prisoner in my own home; alone, and unwanted. You… I can’t imagine you’ve ever felt that way, because your family loved you, they loved you so much that they would do absolutely anything to keep you happy.”

 

Snow bows her head slightly, blinking away the tears building up in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.” She smiles, albeit sadly, but it’s still there. “My point is that… until Storybrooke, until I cast the curse, I was controlled, trapped, and this town… this town was my freedom, Henry was my freedom. Next, Emma arrived and broke the curse, and then everyone was against me again, just like in the Enchanted Forest. They wanted to kill me, they wanted me dead, gone, forever, and in doing this, they were inadvertently controlling me.” Regina swallows, “but… Emma. Emma and Henry… they believed in me.” A pause. She wipes under her eyes with her index finger, “and Emma. Emma is the only person that has never tried to control me, never tried to change me for who I am, because in some way, I think she knew I would change anyway. I wanted to change,” she swallows. “For Henry, for… myself, for Emma. They made me who I am today.”

 

Snow takes a deep breath, and whispers, “and now Zelena’s taken Emma. It’s like… and stop me if I’m wrong, but she took away a part of you? I understand.”

 

Regina nods slowly. “Exactly. I just… feel as if Emma and I are connected in a way. Ever since she arrived here in Storybrooke. I’ve never felt that way before, I’ve never felt this kind of connection with anybody else.”

 

Snow just looks at her; head cocked very slightly, almost as if she’s trying to figure out if what she’s saying is what she believes she’s trying to say. “You mean…?”

 

Regina frowns, unsure of what Snow means. “What?”

 

“Are you…” she begins. There’s a small pause, in which Regina believes she’s going to back out of asking her the questions she so strongly looks like she needs to ask. But it comes unexpectedly to Regina, “in love with Emma?”

 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in this chapter being updated. University has taken over my life. Also, this chapter uses a few lines from Bleeding Through (3x18), which I don't own, so don't sue me, Disney.

                              _“Are you…_

_in love with Emma?”_

 

Regina answers the question, with a dismissive wave of a hand. She feigns nonchalance, “of course not, don’t be so stupid, Snow,” and shoots her a distasteful look to confirm that, indeed, the conversation is now over. It doesn’t come up again in conversation until a few days later—three to be exact—when she and Snow are once again in the kitchen, bonding over apple pie laced with just the right amount of cinnamon to tickle their taste buds. (Because when Regina gets antsy, she bakes).

 

“So,” Snow clears her throat, digging her fork into the pie. She looks up, “have you heard from Emma?” She speaks as if she’s waiting to be disappointed, her limbs become stiff, and her lips press together to form a thin line. She’s bracing herself.

 

Regina just shakes her head, and licks a stray squirt of cream from her lips. “Unfortunately not.” Her eyebrows lift for a short second, as if she knew this was bound to happen. “But, before you ask, I’m sure she’s perfectly alright. As I said before, she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She grew up in the foster system, for Gods’ sake, there is absolutely no possible way she would ever put herself in danger.” The older woman sighs softly, lifting her head to look at Snow, and flashes a very small, closed-mouth smile, trying her hardest to make Snow believe in her words, even though she hardly believes them herself.

 

Emma has been gone for three days, and she’s made no contact whatsoever. However, Regina knows Emma is still in town, she knows she’s staying in room 4 (the room she stayed in when she first arrived in Storybrooke), and she knows Emma’s with her. Zelena. It worries Regina, worries her so much that she barely sleeps at night; she paces her room, reads the books Belle gave her, and thinks about something—anything—she can do to help Emma in any way. But her mind falls blank, every time, and the only thing that changes are the circles that gradually darken under her eyes each day.

 

“No, I know,” Snow begins, pushing a stray piece of hair off her face. “It’s just…” a sigh. “She’s my daughter, and I’m worried about her. She doesn’t know who I am, who David is, who anyone is this town is, and it’s awful for us to push her and push her about something she clearly doesn’t understand.”

 

Regina refrains from rolling her eyes in irritation, “we’re all worried. It’s not just you. I’m afraid for her. I’m afraid she’ll never regain her memories, I’m afraid Zelena will trick her into believing the worst of us, I’m afraid she’ll…” She shakes her head, “it’s a complicated situation… of which I’m not entirely sure how to resolve. Do we attack now, or do we wait until we find a solution and risk the possibility that Zelena may attack first, when we aren’t ready?"

 

“I’m actually surprised you haven’t taken it upon yourself to attack her already,” Snow says, with a slightly astonished expression painted across her face. “You’re not exactly the… sit-back-and-wait type, Regina.”

 

Her lips purse, “I have my reasons.”

 

“And?” Snow looks at Regina expectantly, “what are your reasons?”

 

“Well, for one you and I both know I practice dark magic, thus according to legend, I cannot defend Zelena. Yes, I could throw myself into battle with her and try to defeat her, but if it’s prophesied, I’m not going to mess with it. Secondly,” she begins to clear up their—now empty—plates of apple pie, “she has Emma. And thirdly,” Regina pauses, and bends down to open the dishwasher. She sets the dirty dishes into their places, and shuts the door, turning back around and leans against the island. Her fingers loosely wrap around the edge of the marble, her voice is low, and quiet, “I don’t particularly want to kill my only living blood relative.” Regina’s eyes flicker up, locking with Snow’s ones—shining with guilt and remorse for killing Cora. “I’d like for Zelena to come out of this alive, if possible,” she continues. “I’ve been thinking about concocting a potion to strip her powers, however, I have no idea whether one even exists.”

 

Snow nods, averting her eyes, “Belle’s books will help though?”

 

An awkward silence falls upon the two, each of their heads facing in opposite directions, evading the other’s eyes—they’re both thinking about the same thing. Cora. The intricacies of their present, past and future relationships haven’t been dealt with, and Regina isn’t sure whether they ever will be. The air becomes thick, hot, and it’s as if they’re found themselves stuck in a heat wave in the middle of August, and she can feel the pink coming out in her cheeks.

 

Regina’s hands find the marble, seeking refuge in its cold surface. She breathes out, “yes. Yes, they will.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Snow responds. It’s genuine. Possibly the most genuine apology Regina has even gotten, so she looks to her. Their eyes meet across the room, brown meets green in a battle of who isn’t going to cry. Regina watches as the younger woman gathers up her strength, takes a deep breath, and continues speaking. “I want to apologise, Regina. For Cora, for—”

 

“—Murdering her?” Regina cuts in. Her bottom lip quivers ever so slightly, but she bites down hard on the inside of it to keep it in place. She steps forward slightly, hands sliding off the counter behind her, as moves over to lean and rest her elbows on the island where Snow is sitting. She clasps her hands together, listening intently.

 

“Right, yeah.” It’s stiff, and rigid. Snow’s shoulders lift slightly, and lock in place. Her entire body is still, and she looks down to her hands in regret. “I don’t take it lightly, I think about it every day.”

 

Regina nods slightly, “so do I.” She reaches a hand out to rest on top of Snow’s, which she then looks at, and smiles sadly. Snow begins to talk, but Regina shakes her head, silencing her. “And when I do think about it, I remember that she did kill your mother, so I’ll admit that it’s complicated.”

 

“Thank you,” it comes out in a half laugh, half sob kind of way. Regina joins her by smiling gently, the awkwardness fading away with—what seems like—the resolution of that situation. “So, Emma…” Snow’s eyebrows lift in curiosity. “What’s going on there?”

 

“What…?” Regina almost squeaks out, taken aback by the new conversation, of which she thought she had left behind a few days ago. She composes herself, stands up straight, and intertwines her fingers together in front of her stomach. Her instincts kick in immediately, she’s going to act oblivious, “going on? Whatever do you mean?”

 

Snow replies frankly, “with Emma. You two seem…”

 

The older woman rolls her eyes, “seem what, Snow? Spit it out.”

 

“It’s just… this Emma seems to like you, kind of. She remembered you, and not me, or David, or anyone else in this town. Just you. I thought that was a little odd.” Her eyes flitter over Regina’s subtly fidgeting hands, “and you avoid speaking about her most of the time.” Snow flashes Regina a small knowing smile, “you know,” she continues. “I always thought Emma looked at you in an… intolerable sort of way, but now I think it was… well, maybe it was the complete opposite of that. There’s a thin line between love and hate, Regina, and I think you know that.”

 

One of Regina’s perfectly plucked eyebrows lifts in fifty per cent confusion and fifty per cent intrigue, “and what are you suggesting?”

 

“That you’re in love with Emma,” Snow states astutely. “And I have absolutely no doubt that Emma loves you too. Perhaps you two have always been in love, maybe you just haven’t opened your hearts to one another, possibly due to fear or rejection.” She leans forward slightly, taking Regina’s hand, “I see it in your eyes. Both of your eyes. Still. Even though… Emma isn’t herself. It’s inside of her, just like it was inside of David and me when we were cursed. We knew. We just somehow… knew.” She sighs softly, “I think Emma knows, Regina. I think she knows, deep down, that she’s not… in love with Anna, or… Zelena… that she’s not meant to marry her, and live happily ever after, because her happily ever after is with you. And Henry.”

 

There are tears filling Regina’s eyes, but she pushes them back, and pulls her cold hand away from Snow’s warm one. She shakes her head, mouth curving downward slightly, “villains don’t get happy endings.”

 

“You aren’t a villain.”

 

“Oh, I am,” she laughs forlornly. “I may not be proud of my actions anymore, but that doesn’t excuse them. Snow, I killed hundreds—no, thousands—of people, for my own personal gain… to find you, to kill you. I’m… awful, I… I deserve to be unhappy. I deserve to be alone. I really do. I’m… I’m a monster.”

 

Snow’s head shakes in disagreement, “you aren’t a monster. You’ve changed. I see that. Emma sees that. Everyone sees that. You aren’t the Evil Queen anymore, you’re,” there’s a sincere smile. “Just… Regina.”

 

The brunette’s eyes flicker up to meet the other woman, a small smile graces Regina’s lips, and she watches Snow carefully with no response. That’s all she wants to be: Regina. The ties with her past life in the Enchanted Forest had returned once the curse broke, clawing their way back into everybody’s minds, corrupting them and turning them against her once again. But this time, in Storybrooke, she hadn’t tried to kill anyone, or hurt anyone in any way in twenty-eight years. Yet the memories of the past seemed to inhabit their minds, unwilling to forgive, with an eagerness to kill her for her malevolent deeds. She was the Evil Queen to them, not Regina. Regina was pushed to the sidelines, as she always was, praised and acknowledged for her evil actions, instead of the good. She’s tried her hardest to change, to help, to adapt, and to become one of them, but still, nothing prevailed. Most of the people of Storybrooke are still scared and intimidated by her, seeing her as the Evil Queen first, and Regina second, but she’s hoping that this will all change, and those words, the words spilling out of Snow’s mouth give her more hope than she’s had for this situation in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll be Regina, because “just… Regina” sounds perfect—more than perfect.

 

…

 

Ding-dong.

 

A pause. Regina’s head, with the rest of her body, is buried under the covers to keep herself warm from the cold night—or morning—she has no idea what time it is, but it’s definitely too late—or too early—for somebody to be knocking at her front door.

 

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

 

She sighs softly; she scoops her hands up and over the covers, and pulls them off. The chill hits her body immediately, and all of the heat she had acquired in those few hours, disappears. Her eyes blink and squint for a moment, adjusting to the darkness as she looks over to the clock. **3:12AM** , it reads. With a shake of her head, she slides out of the bed, and grabs her nightgown, pulling it around her small frame. Her mind flickers through the possibilities of who could be knocking at her door in the early hours of the morning, with a reason good enough for her not to cremate them for.

 

Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

 

Her feet quickly make her way out of her room, down the stairs, and to the front door. Without checking the peephole, she abruptly pulls the door open, and stares at the woman standing on her doorstep. “Ms. Swan,” she hisses, pulling her nightgown tightly around her to combat the cold from outside. “It is three A.M., what on earth are you doing here?”

 

A smirk spreads across Emma’s face. She’s leaning on the doorframe of the house’s porch, and staring straight at Regina. Her infamous red leather jacket is almost falling off her frame, as if she was in a rush to put it on, and didn’t manage to get dressed in time. However, clearly this isn’t the case, Regina peeks around the corner to look for the Bug, but it isn’t there. Emma must have walked. The blonde crosses a leg in front of the other, pressing all of her weight against the building, “lemme in.”

 

“Excuse me?” Regina bites out, taking notice of the fact that she can now see her breath.

 

“Well,” Emma laughs. “You aren’t payin’ your energy bills to heat the street, are you?” She pushes politely past Regina’s body, and into the house, heading for the lounge. “Isn’t Storybrooke trying to go green like every other town on the East Coast?”

 

Regina stands there frozen, she doesn’t respond; she stares at the direction Emma just headed in and her mouth gapes somewhat. Her nose automatically wrinkles as the stench of cheap liquor—and cigarettes, maybe—wafts her way. Her eyes narrow, sceptical of the other woman’s motives, and she quietly shuts and locks the door as to not wake Henry. As she makes her way down the hallway to the lounge, her bare feet padding gently against the hardwood floors, she takes a moment to ask herself: what the hell is going on?

 

“Are you really a mayor?” Emma slurs, kicking her shoes off, and plummets herself full force down onto the couch. Regina flinches slightly, and then flinches again when the younger woman lifts her feet up. At least she took her shoes off first. “Or is that just another lie you’ve told me?”

 

Regina cocks her head slightly, “yes, Ms. Swan. I am the mayor of this town.” She makes her way over to sit on the opposite couch, perching on the edge, just in case Emma decides to drunkenly slide off it, smack her head off the glass coffee table and give herself a concussion. “Why?” She licks her lips, intertwining her fingers together as they rest neatly in her lap. Her eyebrows lift, “are you surprised? Did you think a middle-aged, white man was going to be in my place?”

 

Emma shrugs. “Yeah… I didn’t think I’d ever meet a mayor as hot as you. To be honest.”

 

“Well, I never thought I’d ever meet a bail bonds person as…” Regina smirks softly, inwardly laughing at her own joke, “Charming as you, Emma.” The smirk wipes from her face and is replaced with a stony comparison, “now, Ms. Swan, would you like to inform me to as why you were standing—drunk! May I add—on my porch at three A.M.?”

 

She shrugs again, yawning slightly. Her arms lift, and her hands join to rest under her head, “wanted to see you.”

 

“You wanted to see me!?” Regina shakes her head, and lowers her voice to an angry whisper, “you left Henry with a group of people who you believe to be strangers! Do you realise how problematic that is?” She leans forward, finger lifting to emphasise her point, “you are not the Emma I know.” Shaking her head again, she takes in a deep breath, and quietly lets it out, “you’re unfathomable. I don’t even want to speak to you. I don’t even want to look at you.” Regina averts her eyes from the woman, “you’re an idiot, Emma Swan. An idiot.”

 

“But you aren’t strangers,” Emma admits. Her face is flushed, possibly from all the alcohol, and she struggles to pull her jacket off. “If I’m to believe you are who you say you are. ‘Henry’s mom’,” Emma scoffs. “Right. Sure. Whatever.”

 

Regina’s eyes stay averted, “if you’re here to belittle me as a mother, I suggest that you leave. Promptly.” She pushes a piece of stray hair behind her ears, sits up straighter and mutters, “before I incinerate you.”

 

“What are you gonna do?” Emma teases, a grin lingering on her lips, “light a match or something? You’d really burn down your house for me, Regina? If that is your real name.”

 

The older woman’s head whips around to the direction in which Emma is sitting, “no.” She says, curtly, and lifts her hand out, “I don’t need matches. I can just do this.” A fireball begins to grow in the palm of her hand, as her eyes stay transfixed on the blonde sitting across from her.

 

The light from the fireball flickers, illuminating parts of the room Emma had not yet taken notice of. Her eyes are wide, the green tint becoming more prominent as the orange flame naturally sitting in Regina’s hand reflects off her. She’s moved from lying down, to sitting up, and now she’s leaning forward, elbows rested on the tops of her thighs, with the most perplexed look Regina has ever seen grace her face. “What the fuck,” she states—it isn’t a question.

 

“Something wrong, Ms. Swan?” She extinguishes the flame, and crosses her arms across her chest.

 

“… I must be really, really drunk… because shit,” Emma pushes her hair back in astonishment, hands cradling her head for a moment. “I swear to God or whoever’s up there… I just saw… a ball of fire in your hand. Like, real fire.”

 

A nod is given in response, “you did.”

 

“I did…?” Emma replies, frowning slightly.

 

She clearly doesn’t understand, and she’s inebriated, which causes Regina to believe that she’ll probably brush this off in the morning as a drunken delusion, but it still doesn’t stop her from trying to convince Emma that this is all real. “Listen to me,” she clears her throat. “This… everything we’ve all told you… about magic, about us… is real. I know you, Emma, and I know that you wouldn’t leave Henry alone with a group of people who you believe are strangers, without something being wrong. Is there something wrong? Is she controlling you somehow?” The brunette’s eyes flicker down to the left hand side of Emma’s chest, lingering there for just a moment before quickly looking back up. “It… can’t be your heart.”

 

“Huh?” Her brows furrow, “controlling me? You mean Anna, right?” Emma quickly shakes her head, and crosses her leg over the other. “Nope. No controlling going on there. We have a great relationship. Plus,” a grin almost covers her entire face. She motions to one of her biceps, “I’m stronger.”

 

Regina rolls her eyes. “Being physically weak doesn’t automatically confirm that you can’t control someone, Ms. Swan. Strength comes in a lot of forms, and the form I’m talking about in this situation is magic. I think she’s controlling you somehow, using magic.” She chews on her lip, “did she act somewhat… strange when she first met you?”

 

“Strange?” Of course she would ignore the magic part. “No, don’t think so. Actually,” Emma lets out a small laugh. “She was so obsessed with me, found it a bit annoying at first, but…” Emma shrugs. “Gradually learned to like it after a while.”

 

Regina refrains from rolling her eyes again, “mm. Desperate. Seems like your type.”

 

“Well, you’re not desperate, so…” she blurts out, and then laughs when she realises what she’s just suggested. “Can’t be my type, can it, Miss Smarty Pants?”

 

The older woman stalls for a moment, swallows, and composes herself. “Well,” is all she says for a few seconds, before licking her lips and darting her eyes around the room, as if she’s looking for something to say. “You’re drunk.”

 

Emma nods in agreement, “yup.”

 

“Why?” Regina’s forehead wrinkles in confusion.

 

“I…” her shoulders lift and fall in a shrug. Emma runs a hand through her hair again, “I just…” she says, but then stops again. Regina watches silently as the blonde seems to be inwardly fighting a battle in her mind. She visibly sobers. “It feels wrong. I don’t know why I left Henry. I don’t know why I said I was going back. I don’t feel like myself at all.” Emma glances down to her hand, ring sparkling in the light, “I just… love her.”

 

The brunette’s heart begins to thump, she knows what Zelena’s done. “Emma. The ring. Take off the ring.”

 

Emma’s fingers play with the ring, twisting it around and around, eyes transfixed on Regina. She can tell that Emma doesn’t fully understand, but Regina can see the cogs winding and whirling in the back of her mind—she wants to take it off. “What? Why?”

 

“You said,” she begins. “That you gradually came to like Zel— Anna. Was it gradual?” Regina notices Emma’s confused frown, and continues to try and explain what she means. “When Anna proposed to you, were you happy… or did it seem like a big step to be taking so soon?”

 

“I was happy, of course I was happy. I love Anna. Getting engaged was one of the most amazing things that has ever happened to me,” she smiles. It’s almost too sickly sweet for Regina to handle, but she pushes on because if she’s right, and it’s the ring, she’ll be one step closer to getting the real Emma back. “But I guess it was pretty fast.”

 

Regina nods. “Before you said yes, did you try the ring on?”

 

“Yeah,” she smiles again, and laughs slightly. “Anna insisted that I try it on before I gave her my answer. ‘Just to see how it looks on you’, she said. And then, after that, I couldn’t say no.”

 

Regina swallows slightly, and braces herself for the answer of, “have you taken it off since then?” She watches the blonde shake her head, “take it off.”

 

Emma looks at her. “Uh, why?”

 

“Because it’s—” Regina stops herself, and decides to take another approach. “I’d like to take a closer look at it, if that’s alright?”

 

“You said you didn’t like it,” it’s blunt, accusatory, and Emma’s eyes narrow slightly.

 

“I know,” Regina exhales. “But I’m… starting to like it…?” There’s an inflection she silently hopes Emma doesn’t pick up on, and when she doesn’t, Regina breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s very similar to one I had; in the past, of course. So, may I?” She motions to the ring.

 

Emma shrugs very slightly, for around the hundredth time tonight, and places her thumb and her forefinger on the band of the ring. She gently—albeit, with a small struggle—twists and slides it over her knuckle, over her nail, and places it in the palm of Regina’s hand. She takes a glance at her bare hand, and looks across the room at her, “I…”

 

The brunette’s eyes flicker in between Emma and the ring, and then choose to rest on the woman sitting across from her. Regina’s hand curls into a ball, ring digging into the palm of her hand, but she ignores the pain.

 

Emma’s stare turns into a frown, “what the hell?” Her spine becomes rigid, and she digs her nails into the sides of her thighs. Her eyes uneasily glance around the room, finally resting on Regina’s warm smile. “What happened?” Looking back down at her left hand, she runs her thumb gently over the inside of her ring finger, as if she’s missing the physical object being there, yet the emotional attachment to the ring—and to the person who presented it to her - seem to have dissipated. “I don’t even want to get fucking married.” It’s a mumble, but Regina knows she’s meant to hear it. “I don’t even know her. What the fuck have I been doing all thi—” there’s a pause, and Emma’s head whips up, “Henry. Where’s Henry?”

 

“He’s,” Regina begins. She takes a short moment to breathe. It was the ring. Zelena had been controlling Emma with the ring, she’s not quite sure how she did it, but her sister had found a way. “He’s asleep, upstairs, just like everybody else in this town… apart from the two of us.” A subtle eye roll accompanies her statement, but she stalls again, and sighs softly as she places the ring in her purse to look at later.

 

“I want to see him,” she presses. Emma is almost sliding off the edge of the couch, keen to see their son.

 

Regina shakes her head, “he is sleeping. He is not to be disturbed, Emma.”

 

“He’s my son.”

 

“He’s not, he’s ours.”

 

Silence falls upon them.


	13. Chapter 13

“Mom,” it’s one of those too-loud-whispers Henry has become accustomed to using over the years. The word ripples through her body, as if it physically pains her to hear it—she’s exhausted, and it’s the Saviour’s fault.

 

All Regina manages to get out is a soft, “mm?” before she reluctantly flickers her eyes open, focusing in the direction of where the voice is coming from. Henry is standing there, clad in his plaid pyjamas and slippers, holding an empty glass by his side. “Henry,” she breathes out, and sits up. She gets out of the bed, slides her feet into her slippers, and smiles. “Good morning.”

 

“Mornin’,” he mumbles. He’s been dropping his Gs ever since he arrived back from New York, Emma’s influence, clearly. “So…” he rocks back and forth on his heels. His eyes stare at the other side of Regina’s bed suspiciously, and then whip back to his mom, accusingly. “Why’s ma here?”

 

Regina grabs her dressing gown, which is draped over the back of the chair in front of her vanity, and wraps it around herself. “She was upset last night, and she came over to talk. She wanted to see you, but it was a little after four in the morning when we finished talking, and I didn’t think it would be appropriate to wake you.”

 

“Uh huh.” He cocks his head, curious, “what did you talk about? Did she sleep in here—in your bed?”

 

“Things that aren’t suitable for a child’s ears,” she touches his nose gently, and raises an eyebrow. “And, no, she did not sleep in my bed, I assume she slept in one of the spare rooms.”

 

“You assume?” He emphasises, “why would you need to assume something?”

 

She shakes her head. “You, mister, read far too much into the most trivial of things.”

 

“Grandma said—”

 

“Ah, so that’s where your newfound suspicion originated, then? Your grandmother. I’ll be having words with her,” she bends down to his level—which is only about an inch or two, because yes, he’s now thirteen and almost taller than her—and whispers, “maybe I’ll even make her an apple turnover to show my gratitude.”

 

He laughs softly, and elongates the word “mom,” into a whine. They make their way out of the room, Regina’s arm resting protectively around his shoulders, and head down the stairs. “Do you love her?” Henry’s head tilts upward slightly, eyebrows wiggling ever so slightly.

 

“Henry,” she gently chastises him into silence, as they enter the kitchen. The smell of pancakes infuses her nostrils, and even though they smell burnt, she smiles, because it’s the thought that counts. Regina’s eyes fall on Emma, who is standing at the stove with her back to them, but they still manage to see her successfully flip and catch a pancake in the pan. Impressive, Regina thinks, because she’s never had the guts to do that herself, she much prefers flipping them manually with a spatula, afraid of the mess it may make—or more honestly, afraid of the more mess she’d have to clean up afterwards.

 

“Way to go, ma,” Henry grins, and sits up at the island. “Smells good.”

 

“Thanks kid,” is her response, but as Emma turns around, her eyes fall onto Regina. “Hey,” it’s quiet, and there’s a small smile that accompanies it, but it’s meek, shy, possibly because of her notably inebriated state last night.

 

Regina offers a smile in return, “good morning, Emma.” The older woman releases Henry from her grasp, and heads over to fill the kettle, and pour Henry a glass of orange juice. “Sleep well?”

 

“Like a rock,” she says with a laugh—alcohol, most of the time, makes a person sleep easier, but then they wake up the next morning with a raging headache, stomach ache and a mouth as dry as the Sahara desert. Regina assumes Emma didn’t wake up with a hangover, as she had sobered somewhat, before going to sleep. “That bed’s really comfy.”

 

She replies with a quiet hum, and makes her way over to set out a few plates and cutlery on the island. “What are your plans for today, Em? … Ma.” Regina corrects herself, swallowing as she looks to each of them, a look of discomfiture painted on her face. Emma doesn’t notice, but Henry does, and he’s now staring at Regina accusingly, for what seems like the fifteenth time this morning. “I have a few errands to run, but then I’ll be free for the day, if you’d like to talk a little more? Maybe we could work on getting rid of Zelena.”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Emma replies with a soft shrug of her shoulders. She has accepted the fact that Anna was never Anna, she was always Zelena; she had tricked her into wearing a cursed ring (of which she probably didn’t understand fully). This ring had brought feelings to the surface that were never even there to begin with. She and Regina had spoken about it last night, discussed what the ring would have done, and although Regina doesn’t know the specifics of how the ring works, the brunette made sure that Emma somewhat understood the foundation of what she was speaking about. Any knowledge is better than no knowledge at all. Emma seems to come to terms with what Zelena is, and what she wants to do, in that moment—she visibly stiffens. “If she goes anywhere near Henry…”

 

Regina’s eyes lock with the blonde’s. “I won’t let that happen.”

 

“We,” Emma nods with a small smile.

 

“Moms, I’m not a little kid anymore. I’m gonna help.” Henry announces, taking a sip of his orange juice. Both of his mothers turn to look at him, eyebrows risen in an almost like-hell-you-are fashion. “She’s my aunt,” he shrugs, just as Emma had done prior. “She always liked me back in New York, and yeah, I guess she was just trying to get to us to hurt you, mom. Come on, I think I can help.”

 

Regina shakes her head. “It’s far too dangerous for a thirteen year old to be around somebody who, most likely, wants them dead. You can’t defend yourself.” Henry pulls a face, and she steps forward, “you must listen to me. You cannot and you will not interfere, do you understand? The worst thing…” she shakes her head slightly, and lowers her voice, “the worst thing Zelena could ever do to me, is hurt you, so please, Henry. Stay out of this.”

 

“But—”

 

“—No buts kid,” she places a plate of pancakes in front of Henry. It’s all so… domestic. “You heard your mom.”

 

Regina and Henry falter, glance to each other, and then back to Emma. She referred to Regina as Mom, (and by the look on her face, the older woman assumes it must have been a slip of the tongue). Her attention focuses on Henry, whose face is overcome with joy, an enormous grin filling the bottom half. “You called mom mom.”

 

“Yeah.” It’s short, blunt, and Emma looks as if she’s taking a moment to compose herself. She turns; she pulls open one of the cupboards, and takes two mugs out. “Just no buts, you heard her.”

 

“Uh, ma…” Henry starts, a confused look replacing the former glee. “How do you know where everything is?”

 

All that comes out is a perplexed “what?” and her eyes focus on the two mugs in her hands. “It’s just…” she tries to explain, “obvious, isn’t it?” She begins to rattle off a list of kitchenware, pointing to the exact place they’re all kept, “pots and pans in there, mugs and glasses in there, plates and bowls and stuff in there, cutlery in there…”

 

“It’s the ring.” Regina states, glancing to Henry.

 

Henry’s head turns in his mom’s direction. “Uh. The ring? Like, The One Ring… from Lord of the Rings?” He grins; beginning to laugh at his joke, but then simmers when he sees Regina’s face. “What ring?”

 

She clears her throat. “Your mother, she was wearing an engagement ring last night, and I told her to take it off. She did, and suddenly, she saw much more clearly than before. Zelena had cursed the ring to make Emma think that she was in love with her. I’m not entirely sure how, but she succeeded.” Regina sips her tea, tapping her nail on the china, “and now. Well, her judgement isn’t clouded anymore. It seems to have allowed her to fully… be Emma,” Regina glances to her, she’s listening intently. “I suppose—though, of course, without her real memories.”

 

“Just for now, though, right? We’re going to get them back.”

 

“Yes, sweetheart.” She smiles, and catches a glint in Emma’s eye. Henry’s hopeful again, just as he was before she sent him off to New York, to experience a life without her. He’s not going to give up, and neither is she. “We’re going to get them back.”

 

 …

 

Henry takes a deep breath, “and that’s how you ended up here in Storybrooke!” He shoves the book back into Emma’s arms, smiling, and leans in, “do you remember? Kinda? Even a little bit? Because anything you remember, you have to tell us. It’s really important.”

 

“Henry,” Regina reprimands. “Give your mother some space.”

 

Emma shares a grateful glance, and chews gently on her lip. Her eyes fixate back onto the pages of the book. “Nah, sorry, kid. Don’t remember any of that. You sure you didn’t just dream all of this? It’s pretty elaborate, but it’s something you could do.”

 

“No, ma. I didn’t dream it. This is all real. Mom,” he grips onto Regina’s arm softly, “show Emma your magic.”

 

Regina takes a breath, “Emma has already seen my magic, Henry. Unfortunately, it didn’t help, it didn’t kick-start her memory, as I hoped it would have. I was anticipating that I would find a potion, in one of Belle’s books, that I could use, but alas, no luck yet.”

 

Henry’s face falls in disappointment, and his eyes scan the room as if he’s looking for inspiration. “Don’t you know any memory spells or potions?”

 

Her head shakes in response. “No, darling, none of which would solve our problem.”

 

“This is whack.” Avoiding a disapproving look from Regina, he manages to continue before she berates him for his language, “I mean… it’s just stupid. Why can’t we figure this out? I want ma back.” He takes a shaky breath in, “there’s got to be some spell or potion or… something—anything—that can help. We can’t just sit around and wait, that’s counterproductive. What about True Love’s Kiss? It can break any curse, can’t it? Can’t we try that?”

 

Regina’s eyes soften in despair, “That’s already been tried, sweetheart. The replacement of your memories with new ones was not a curse, it was rather more of a… gift, I suppose. I didn’t curse you, therefore, I don’t believe True Love’s Kiss wouldn’t work in this situation.”

 

“Can’t you just… undo it? Undo the memories you gave ma?” He stuffs a piece of pancake in his mouth, and swallows before continuing to speak, “mine were kinda undone with that potion.”

 

“No,” she says quietly. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I don’t know what the components of the potion were, and I don’t even know whether I would have the ingredients here to work with anyway.” She sighs, and rubs her head; “I should have studied the potion before I used it. Maybe then we would have Emma back… although, it isn’t good to dwell on the past.”

 

Henry stabs a piece of the pancake with his fork, “there’s gotta be something else we can do.”

 

“Uh, guys…?” Emma lets out a nervously irritated laugh. “I can’t be that bad… or that different, surely.” She crosses her arms and rests on the edge of the counter, “Here’s the thing… you’re all looking for a solution to a problem that maybe, just maybe, isn’t a problem? I’m myself, I’m on your side, I kinda believe these things you’re telling me… what’s so different about me? Can’t you just fill me in on the things you think I need to know? Wouldn’t that be quicker?”

 

Regina’s brow furrows slightly, “oh, Emma. We don’t mean it like that, in the slightest. It’s just that,” she sighs softly. “It’s complicated. The memories you’ve amassed over these few years, and of course, your years in and out of the foster system, are extremely significant.” She chews her lip gently, and pushes one side of her hair behind her ear, “I taught you how to control your magic in Neverland, albeit you being a little… less cooperative that I initially thought you would be. We worked together, we… our magic is much stronger than our individual magic, and I’m fearful you’ve forgotten the little I taught you. Without that, I don’t know h—”

 

“—You guys moved the moon for me—the moon!—how cool is that?”

 

Emma’s eyes squint in slight disbelief, “the moon?”

 

“Yeah!” He responds. “Something to do with a barrier thing Pan put up, where only people who don’t have a shadow can go past it, so you two figured that if there wasn’t a moon, there wouldn’t be any shadows. Like, no one would have a shadow, and you, mom and Neal could get inside to save me.” Henry pauses for a moment, but then continues, “oh and yeah, I know he’s my dad. I mean, was my dad… I guess.” He shrugs, “we don’t know where he is.”

 

The blonde’s head lifts in acknowledgement, but she doesn’t speak, so Regina cuts in, “I think your idea may work, Emma. Collectively, we’ll have to work on you understanding your memories, and understanding the power inside of you, since you haven’t used magic for a yea—” she stops herself, forehead wrinkling due to a sudden realisation. “True Love’s Kiss. That’s magic, you have used magic. It shouldn’t be hard for you to comprehend it, then.”

 

“You shared True Love’s Kiss, ma?” Henry cocks his head, “with who?”

 

Emma’s attention turns to Regina, “uh…?” she says, in an attempt to read the brunette’s feelings on the matter. They both feel exactly the same way; it isn’t something for them to speak about in front of Henry.

 

“No way.” His face crumples up in disgust, “you kissed my mom? Ugh, you guys do love each other. That’s just… weird. But kinda cool, I guess. Probably explains all the fighting you guys got up to before.” He laughs, and repeats exactly what Snow had said to Regina the previous day, “there’s a thin line between love and hate!”

 

“Henry,” they both scold him in unison, and Regina follows with a strong, “that’s enough. This isn’t a matter to be spoken about at this very moment, we have other—more important—things to focus our attention on.”

 

Emma nods, and even though her face falls slightly, she forces out a “yeah,” to show her stance on the situation.

 

“Wait, mom…”

 

Regina sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “Henry, I said that’s enough.”

 

“No, listen.” He says, and slides down from the stool, “True Love’s Kiss!” He lifts his hands out in front of him to emphasis that he doesn’t understand why she doesn’t understand, “it’s light magic! You used light magic.”

 

She frowns in response; that can’t be possible. Regina doesn’t even know how to use light magic, because she was only taught the opposite. Light and dark are two completely different leagues of sorcery; the former uses love, joy, and happiness, and the latter uses fury, frustration, preying on a person’s vulnerability to bring out the worst in them.

 

Henry grins. “You can defeat Zelena together using your light magic! This is great, because ma isn’t really great with the whole magic thing at the minute, actually she never really was is what I’ve heard.” He lets out a small laugh, “so let her lean on you! You can do it together!”

 

“I’m not sure whether…” she sighs, “Henry, I don’t believe I can just use light magic so instinctively, as I can with dark magic. It’s a craft. It has to be learned. We aren’t all born with the ability to wield it, unlike some.”

 

Henry and Emma both respond, respectively, with a “you can do it, I believe in you,” a “let’s at least try?”, and without another thought, the three of them are then in the lounge; Regina and Emma are standing in the middle of the room, hands intertwined, while Henry clutches tightly onto the book, intensely observing the situation in front of him.

 

“Hi,” Emma breaks the silence. She smirks.

 

“Hello,” is what she gets in return. A small smile comes a few seconds later, and Regina tightens her grip on the blonde’s hands. “Alright. First of all, I need you to focus all of your energy on me. I’ll reciprocate.”

 

Emma nods, her chest rises and falls as she breathes, and her eyes close—Regina follows suite. Their hands remain entangled, and they both begin to focus all of their energy on each other.

 

The residual energy that has been pent up for so long, finally releases in a bout of light. There’s a flash, but Regina can’t seem to open her eyes; the magic flowing in and out of her body has frozen her in some way, but is freeing her in another. She’s never felt this kind of magic before, this kind of power. Even with Rumplestiltskin, when she used to practice with him, they’d sometimes cast spells together before she could cast one alone, but it had never felt like this. It feels… good, light; it feels comfortable, and it comes at ease.

 

She doesn’t even know what she’s doing; it’s the second time she’s felt this way. She and Emma are using instinctive magic, rather than casting specific spells and charms. Instinctive magic was something Rumple had informed her of, but had told her “it’s probably out of your reach, dearie,” and left it at that. But here she is, performing instinctive magic, in her living room, with the Saviour: Emma Swan.

 

There’s a connection between the two of them, something Regina can’t quite put her finger on. Maybe it’s True Love, maybe it’s the clash of dark and light magic, or maybe it’s just… something she’s never heard of. But it’s powerful. She can feel it running through her veins, tingling at the ends of her fingers, it feels everlasting, neverending, and she doesn’t want it to stop.

 

“Moms…” Henry begins, and Regina realises he’s been talking for the past few seconds. “Uh… moms? I-I… think you should stop. Stop!”

 

Both of their eyes tear open, hands still joined, but their heads whip over to look to where Henry was previously sitting. Their eyes have to alter upwards, because the couch he was sitting on, along with the rest of the furniture in the room, is floating in the air.

 

Emma tries to pull her hands away from Regina’s, but her grip is too strong. “No, Emma,” she says with a shake of her hand. “We have to lower it together—slowly, not brusquely.”

 

“How do we…?”

 

“I have absolutely no idea,” she pauses, and locks eyes with Emma. “Think about it. Think about the furniture lowering slowly, one by one, until everything is returned to normal,” and they do. Somehow, it works. The furniture lowers, and with it, Henry is placed back on the ground (thankfully without injury).

 

Emma lets go of one of Regina’s hands, and lifts it to scratch the back of her neck. “So, yeah, somehow I don’t think we can get rid of An— Zelena by levitating her to death… unless we fly her to the moon, or something. Can we do that?”

 

“No,” Regina breathes out. She keeps a hold of Emma’s other hand, and gazes out of the window. “We’re not going to kill her, either.”

 

“Uh, right, I just thought that’s… what the plan was?”

 

Regina shakes her head. “Killing her should be our absolute last resort.” Her heart begins to beat a little faster, she wants so desperately to preserve Zelena’s life, but she’s anxious that that won’t be possible. The brunette’s eyes follow Henry’s eye line to their intertwined hands, and she quickly pulls hers away from Emma.

 

The younger woman rubs her hand, as if she’s trying to get used to the emptiness. There’s a twinkle in her eye, of which Regina almost misses, “sorry.”

 

“No, I…” Regina clears her throat. “It’s…” she offers a small smile. “It’s alright. I didn’t intend to be so abrupt.”

 

Henry’s eyes almost roll into the back of his head, “so can we get back to the plan? Orrrrr,” he elongates for emphasis. “Are you two just gonna keep looking at each other all dreamily for the rest of the day? ‘Cause I’m cool with that, but you gotta let me know so I can… y’know…” he motions to the door, “skedaddle.”

 

“The plan, Henry, is to find a way to strip her of her magic.” Regina glances to Emma, and moves over to sit down; Emma follows and takes the space next to her. “That way, everybody wins.”

 

“Is there a potion to do that?” Emma asks, resting her back against the couch.

 

Regina nods. “I—” she stops. There’s a buzzing in her purse. She opens it, and pulls out her phone, “it’s Belle.” A puzzled look spreads across her face as she scans the message, “I wonder…” 

 

 …

 

_"Otay.” A young Henry—who can't be more than three or four—stands, in too-big-for-him pyjamas in the lounge. “Dis is what we gon’ do, mom. We gon’ to surp’ise ‘em! Bam bam bam! Whoosh, callabanga!” His giggle is contagious—it makes Regina laugh every single time._

 

Regina turns her head to Henry, smiling, and slides a hand over his. He reciprocates, grinning back, just as the younger version of him had done moments ago. He’s never seen this videotape before, it’s extremely old; in fact, Regina’s even surprised she still has a working video player in the attic. “This is cool,” he states, and pulls his sneaker-less feat up onto the couch.

 

“It is,” she chews on her lip, and then turns her attention over to the blonde, sitting in the armchair. Emma looks like she’s daydreaming, staring at the television, as if she’s seen a ghost, clearly mesmerised by its contents. “Emma?”

 

_Regina keeps the video camera focused on her son, “oh? And are you going to be the hero, Henry?”_

_“Yup!” He exclaims, with a toothy grin. His hands curl into fists. “And you! We all heroes, mama. ‘Specially you.”_

_Regina sets the video camera down on the couch, lazily, and picks him up. Her index finger gently touches the tip of his nose, “you,” she smiles softly. “Are my hero.”_

 

“Emma.” She’s repeated her name a few times, but alas, no response so far. She’s sitting, with her hands placed on her lap, watching the situation unfold, with no comment. She hasn’t spoken since they decided to watch it. “Earth to Emma.” Regina rolls her eyes in frustration, “do I need to call an ear doctor?”

 

"What?" She acts surprised, head whipping over to look at them. "No." She says, glancing back to the television. "I… this. I remember this." A smile spreads across her face, "this is one of the memories I cherished the most. It made me feel like I was good enough, like I had made the right choice in keeping Henry. He was happy, always happy, and kind, and… uh, yeah. It was just great."

 

Regina nods. "That's how I felt."

 

Emma frowns, "what?"

 

The older woman takes a deep breath in, and glances to Henry, "I was going to take Henry back. To Boston. I found out who you were, the Saviour, Snow White's daughter, the woman who was going to break my curse, and I felt threatened. So threatened, that I didn't think I could raise Henry to the best of my ability knowing that information. It was a hard decision," she bites the inside of her cheek, hard. "But I did. I took him, you," she looks to Henry. "Back to Boston, but then I changed my mind again. I didn't care. You were my son, my baby, and I… couldn't live without you, you were truly the only one in all the realms that believed in me." Her attention turns back to Emma, "but that, everything you've just said, was all that I felt, is all that I feel, I suppose."

 

"It's pretty cool that you two share the same memories of me, kinda like you raised me together." He grins, nudging Regina subtly. "It would be cool having lesbian moms."

 

"Henry," Regina scolds, "that's a little narrow minded. Women in same-sex relationships aren't necessary lesbians, nor do all of them label themselves as one. You should know better."

 

She's avoiding the situation, avoiding the implied question of whether she and Emma are going to act on their feelings or not, but she honestly doesn't know. She doesn't understand how that ever could happen when Emma doesn't remember most of the things she's been through. Although, Emma is right, she is the same person, just with different memories, and Regina could learn to… she loves her. She's loved her for a very long time. She could probably scream it from the rooftops if she wanted to, but she doesn't, because she doesn't know how Emma feels about the situation. She must love her, they shared a True Love's Kiss, but whether that love is something to be acted upon at the moment is another question entirely.

 

"Yeah, I know." He shrugs, "it just would've been cool having two moms raise me," but then he frowns. "Actually, you two kinda did. I have memories of both of you dong the same things. How could I have just realised this?"

 

Emma cuts in, "I guess memories kinda appear in your mind when they want to appear. You have no control over them, really. You can't just… change them, can't force them out of your mind; they're just there, until you acknowledge them. That's when you start remembering and realising things, because you're throwing yourself deeper into the memory." 

 

Henry leans forward to grab his drink from the table, sips it, and says, "that's awesome, actually." He pauses, "it really was a gift, mom."

 

"I never did thank you for them, Regina. I don't think I did anyway…" Emma begins with a small smile, "so thanks, I guess." She laughs awkwardly, and pushes her hair behind her ear. Her legs curl up underneath her as she sits on them, and continues to smile. "I know I don't remember what it was like without those memories, but I don't want to find out. Sincerely, thank you."

 

Regina's fingers slowly curl around her cup of tea, savouring the heat. "You're very welcome. It was the least I could do."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am _so_ sorry for the extremely long wait you've had to endure without an update. I'm currently in my second year of university and things are getting so hectic that I haven't been able to update. I've also been extremely unmotivated, but a few people have still expressed interest in this story, so I decided to make myself write. (This may not have been such a good move, as I have an exam on Tuesday, but it allowed me to procrastinate, and hey, you have a new chapter out of me so that's a plus.) 
> 
> Again, I am so sorry, but hopefully this story with continue to have regular updates now that I have figured out how to organise my life better. Any mistakes are mine and mine only, if you spot any—please let me know! I'll fix them asap. So, I hope you like this chapter. Please let me know what you think in the comments. It means the world to me.

“Mom?”

 

“Yes, darling?” She reaches out instinctively to push a stray curl behind his ear. His hair is much longer now; perhaps it’s even longer than it was when he first arrived back here four weeks ago (even though he’d since had a haircut).

 

It seems just like yesterday that they had arrived back in town, especially seeing as Zelena hadn’t emerged in two weeks. There had been complete silence on her end, and consequently, Storybrooke had returned back to its sleepy state. Though, sleepy wasn’t the best state for it to be in at the moment—for Regina, sleepy suggests a slight vulnerability—the town isn’t ready to see another conflict; everybody is too busy going on with their lives to even think about Zelena’s foreseeable return.

 

Her son lets out a sigh, chin resting in the palm of his hand. “Do you still love your mom?”

 

Regina’s forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Henry,” she scolds subtly. She doesn’t mean to, but control naturally escapes her when any reference of her mother is mentioned. “You know my mother is dead.”

 

“Yeah.” Henry had definitely inherited—or picked up—Emma’s blunt nature of asking questions. He probably knows that this is a sensitive subject, but it’s something he’s always wondered—especially as the situation between his two moms is becoming something more of a relationship, rather than a civility. “But do you still love her? Do you think you can still love someone after they’re dead?”

 

“Oh.” She realises what this is all about. It all clicks into place. “Henry, just because your father hasn’t been found… well, that doesn’t necessarily indicate that death must be the only answer.” She takes a breath, looking at him. She has never particularly liked Neal; he was always an irresponsible, intolerable man in her eyes. He’d become even more of a mark when Regina had found out what he had actually done to Emma. She had always kept her eyes on him after that.

 

Henry nods, repositioning his head on the pillow. “I suppose so. It’s just… hard.”

 

“I know,” she breathes out. This isn’t a topic Regina ever thought Henry would talk to her about; it’s more Emma’s forte, and she suddenly feels forty years younger than she actually is.

 

Being married to the King with nobody to rely on but herself wasn’t something she had ever imagined for her future. (She especially hadn’t ever imagined she would have the courage to push her mother through a looking glass, into another world of which she was not yet familiar with. She hadn’t ever imagined she would then lose her father to her mother’s rage. Retaliation, Regina assumed—taking away the last thing that meant anything to Regina was the one thing keeping her sane.)

 

What she had imagined was hoards of servants beckoning to her every want and need, respecting her as the Queen of this Kingdom. Of course she’d gotten the former, the latter was the problem; no one ever respected her. She’d hear the whispers among the servants, among the kitchen staff, among the peasants when they did their quarterly visit.

 

She always presumed they were talking about her inability to procure a male heir to the throne, her inability to be everything that Queen Eva was, and her inability to be anything but loathsome of the King. She was never honoured with the actual reason.

 

Regina’s dragged from her reverie when Henry shrugs slightly and chews on the skin around his nail, “I really liked him. I know he did horrible stuff to ma, but I think he changed. I think he always wanted to get back together with Emma. I kinda wanted it, but now I don’t, because I know ma doesn’t want that.”

 

Regina nods, not knowing what else to say but: “we’ll find him.” She smiles softly and places a hand on his upper arm. She’s trying to be as optimistic about the situation as possible, even though she has absolutely no recollection or idea of where his father is in the slightest. But Henry cares, and Henry loves him, so Regina chooses to respect his relationship with the man she doesn’t particularly care for at all.

 

Although, if they do manage to locate his whereabouts, she must remember to thank him for sending her the memory potion. If he hadn’t, both Emma and Henry wouldn’t have had the opportunity to stay in Storybrooke—they wouldn’t have had any reason to stay. For that, she’s grateful. (And of course, for procreating with Emma. Because otherwise, she wouldn’t have Henry.)

 

“It’s late,” she motions to the clock on the bed-side table.

 

Henry completely ignores the signal, preferring to continue the conversation they’d been having previously. (Regina assumes he just wants to stay up later). “Do you love ma?”

 

For the first time, Regina doesn’t flinch. She’s become accustomed to Henry asking this question; even though he’s only asked it a few times, it seems like a lot. She sighs softly, “Henry. That isn’t appropriate.”

 

“Ma loves you, you know?” He turns his head up to look at her, unavoidably pushing her hand to the back of his head. She continues to play with his hair, watching him. “I asked her and she blushed. Ma never blushes.”

 

Regina blinks slightly, but keeps quiet. She doesn’t want to upset Henry, nor does she want to give him false hope either. He seems to know more about his mothers’ relationship than they do. It’s obvious Regina likes Emma, she always has, and probably always will. Until she does something stupid, that is, which should be soon.

 

“I think it would be good if you two were together. You fit each other well.” He slides one of his hands under his pillow, “you’re kinda the complete opposite of each other, but also kinda the same… it’s weird.”

 

“ _I_ think it would be suitable to leave this conversation for your mother and I to have another time. Don’t you?”

 

His eyes close, and he mumbles a small, “will you tell me a story?”

 

It’s something he used to do when he was younger, close his eyes, deflect a question and pretend to be so tired that he no longer has the ability of movement. Back then—at five or six—he just wanted to sleep with his mother by his side, especially when monsters undesirably invaded his dreams.

 

But now he’s thirteen, monsters don’t invade his dreams anymore—not that she knows of anyway. Regina assumes he’s missed her company. These four weeks haven’t exactly been normal; due to Emma not remembering everything, their attention has been chiefly on bringing her up to speed. (Not that that had gone terribly in their favour).

 

“Of course,” she can’t deny him of a story. She can’t deny him of anything. This kind of situation is something she had craved for the year they weren’t together, and she’s going to bask in it while she can. “Once upon a time…”

 

Regina falls asleep somewhere in between recalling the stories of Henry’s sixth birthday party and his seventh Christmas. What she doesn’t hear is Henry’s “I love you mom” as he turns over and subjects to slumber too.

 

…

 

“I’m coming home,” she utters. “Yeah. Tonight or tomorrow. I need to get out of here.”

 

Regina’s leaning against the doorframe, eavesdropping on the conversation Emma is having with the stranger on the other side of the phone. Although she has no idea whom Emma is conversing with, nor does she know the full extent of the conversation, she can pretty much put two and two together and understand what Emma means.

 

She’s planning to leave. She’s maybe even planning to leave without informing Regina. That’s what she’s getting from the implicit nature of this conversation. It’s something she never thought Emma would do. (Perhaps at the beginning when they weren’t in a good place. But they’re okay now, they’re getting along, they’re maybe even become… _friends_ —friends that sometimes kiss, that is.)

 

Regina can’t even begin to imagine what she’s done to provoke this immediate change in Emma’s point of view. Going back to New York would be… she can’t even fathom it. It would be one of the most foolish things Emma has ever done, and she has done a lot of irrational things in her time.

 

Regina doesn’t even know whether it’s safe for Emma and Henry to leave Storybrooke. This was all part of Zelena’s plan, and it’s possible she incorporated clauses into the curse; something along the lines of ‘once you enter, you can’t leave and if you try to leave, then something bad will happen to you.'

 

And nothing bad is going to happen to Henry or Emma. Regina won’t allow it.

 

“Mornin’,” Emma mumbles as she walks into the kitchen. There’s a small smile spread across her face, but Regina can instinctively tell what’s about to happen. “I have an idea.”

 

Regina shakes her head, “no.”

 

“What?”

 

“You’re not taking Henry out of Storybrooke. I overheard you on the phone.” Regina slams her hand down on the island, “do you think I’m stupid?”

 

“Yeah, but…” Emma watches as Regina’s head flicks over, eyes burying into her. “I mean no. _No_. I don’t think you’re stupid. Here’s the thing, Henry’s in danger; your crazy sister most likely wants to murder him. That’s totally not okay with me. I’m his mother and I know what’s best for him, so I’m going to take him back to New York. For now.”

 

Regina’s fingers curl into a fist, and her jaw is tight with anger. The room almost feels like it’s spinning, but it’s due to the fact that all of the blood in Regina’s body is rushing to her head and her fingers. “So you’re just going to leave?”

 

“It’s not like I have anything here,” Emma crosses her arms over her chest. “I have a job in New York, a life. Henry has school there. He’s already missed too much. I’ll probably have to enrol him elsewhere.”

 

“You are _such_ an idiot.” The brunette waits for the other woman to respond, but when it doesn’t come, she continues. “Henry’s life is here. Your life is here. How many times do we have to tell you? Why do you keep resisting?” She’s getting angrier and angrier, her fingers gripping onto the edge of the island. The blood at her fingertips brings momentum to her magic. She can feel it coursing through her veins, making every part of her body tingle in liberation; she’s missed this. She’s missed this feeling of anger, of betrayal, the feeling where every part of her just wants to explode; because when it comes to her family, when it comes to the people she loves, she is not going to give up on them. “If you’d just stop being so God damn _stubborn_ and let people in for _once_ in your life, then maybe you would have your memories back by now.”

 

Emma rolls her eyes, “you’re crazy.”

 

“Crazy!?”

 

“Yeah, crazy. You need to calm down. You’re working yourself up over nothing. I said I’m taking Henry back to New York for his own safety. If you cared about him, you would agree, and you would let me take him.”

 

Regina almost growls, “I care about him. I care about him more than you can even imagine. He’s _all_ I have.”

 

“He’s all I have!” Emma counters; she rests her elbows on the island and leans in. The only thing separating them is a marble counter acting as a barrier between them.

 

“No, Emma.” Regina grits her teeth, “you have everything. You have a family, you have friends, you have…” she swallows, “me. You have me. You’re a coward, Emma Swan. Too much of a coward to go through with this, to allow people to love you, to care for you in a way you’ve never been cared for before. You’re too frightened of letting people in, of letting us in, because you’re worried we’ll betray a promise that had been broken many times before. That’s why you keep going back to this… this idea that you have no one and you have nothing apart from Henry. You don’t trust me; you keep pushing me away. It’s because you’re afraid. I understand that. You’re terrified of… of…” Regina points between them, her anger replaced with a mélange of frustration and disappointment, “this. Whatever _this_ is.”

 

“You don’t know me.”

 

Regina shakes her head, “I know you better than you know yourself.”

 

For a moment, even the smallest of noises could be heard. Emma’s breathing, Regina’s breathing, and then the sound of Henry bundling down the stairs and heading straight for the kitchen.

 

“Morning, mom. Mornin’, ma.”

 

They reply at the same time; a small “good morning, dear” comes from Regina and a comparably small “morning, Henry” comes from Emma.

 

His eyes narrow in suspicion. The tension from the previous conversation is still apparent, the air is thick and hot and sticky, and it’s no wonder that Henry realises something is up. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.” Regina pushes the former conversation from her head, in fact, she shakes her head very slightly as if she physically lets go of the situation. She smiles, albeit weakly, “what would you like for breakfast?”

 

Henry looks between the two of them, back and forth. They both stay still, looking everywhere but each other. “Are you fighting?”

 

“No.” Emma responds. “Answer your mom’s question.”

 

He takes a deep breath, “I’ll answer mom’s question when you both stop lying to me. I don’t like it when you lie to me. I don’t like it. You know that.” He waits, but there’s no reply, and as Regina turns around to begin to make breakfast, he continues. “Look, all I want is for you two to be friends, but… you’re not friends.” He pauses just long enough to push a stray piece of hair back, but short enough so that neither of his mothers can protest. “You’ll never ever be friends. Will you?”

 

“Henry…”

 

He’s not even sure which mother said it, but he can imagine the looks on their faces. He can imagine his mom has that sad, doe-eyed look on her face, he can imagine his ma and her determined look of trepidation for his wellbeing. “No!” He exclaims and shakes his head hastily, “don’t ‘Henry’ me. You two both do that when you feel sorry for me, or when you’re keeping the truth from me. I’m not your little boy anymore; I’m thirteen years old. Thirteen years old and I’ve endured more shit than a normal boy my age, so cut the crap. Tell me what’s going on.” He drops his arms by his side, fingers curled into a fist. “For _once_.”

 

For a moment, Regina tries so hard to resist the urge to scold him and send him to his room for cursing. He’s still her baby in her eyes, and she understands that he’s getting older, and he should know what’s going on; but a fight between his mothers about what the hell is going on between them isn’t exactly something Regina thinks he should be made aware of.

 

She cracks, “alright. Number one, I will not tolerate that kind of language in this house. You may think it suitable to use it in New York, or between you and your friends, but not in this house, and definitely not around me. Do you understand?”

 

Henry stares at her in defiance, but he breaks his façade and nods quickly.

 

“Good. Number two, I…” She sighs slightly, shooting a glare towards Emma. “Your mother thinks it necessary to take you back to New York.”

 

Henry frowns, stepping back slightly. He looks betrayed, “what? No,” he says as he shakes his head. He continues to step back, and further back, until he’s inches from the wall. “No!” His eyes are wide, and he genuinely looks so uncharacteristically terrified for this situation that both of his mothers frown in confusion. “STOP!”

 

“Henry? Wha—”

 

“Zelena.”

 

There’s a poof of green smoke behind Regina’s back, of which she only just turns around to catch the sight of. Her head whips around to Henry, whose body is now restrained by the one person she wasn't expected to see today: her sister.

 

“Hey, sis. Miss me?” Zelena grabs Henry’s hair, she pulls it back so hard she almost rips it out. 

 

He whimpers in distress, tears forming in the corners of his eyes, “m-mom.” A dagger is pressed against his neck, inches from his Adam's apple, and Zelena applies some pressure. She breaks the skin, blood trickling down his neck to the top of his clavicle. "H-Help."

 

Regina’s eyes darken; she conjures a fireball, but keeps it resting firmly in the palm of her hand. Her heels clack against the floor of the kitchen as she hastily makes her way around the island, and closer to Zelena. Her teeth grit in anger, and she stands ready to turn Zelena to dust for going near her son. "Stop. _Don't_ you dare." 

 

“I think it’s time Henry gets to know his dear Aunt Z a little better, don’t you?” She laughs eerily. It sends a shiver up Emma's spine. “Oh, and Regina? If you decide that your son's life is worth more than yours, let me know. We can do a trade. But for now, it was _wicked_ seeing you, ta ta.”

 

The only evidence left is the remnants of a cloud of green smoke and a stench so unimaginably peculiar that their noses would twitch if that information were processed. The two mothers stand there, arms outwardly stretched, hands shaking, and mouths open in shock. There’s a small, dejected whimper that pierces the silent room. Regina’s not sure whether it comes from the blonde's mouth or her own, but her arms drop by her side; her fingers clench together into a fist and she looks over to Emma. “I’m going to kill her.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

It’s been fifty-four minutes since she last saw Henry. Fifty-four minutes since she watched her sister yank his head back and wedge a dagger into the base of his throat. Fifty-four minutes since her somewhat domesticated family was abruptly torn apart by the only blood relative in her life. These fifty-four minutes have been the longest fifty-four minutes in which she’s ever spent on this earth, in this world, or in her own world. These fifty-four minutes have been the hardest and the absolute worst thing she has ever been through in her entire life.

 

Fifty-five now—and what’s changed? While the others make themselves comfortable, lounging on the couch as if nothing had occurred almost an hour ago, Regina stands, watching carefully as she falls into two of her masks.

 

One: she stands tall above the rest, eyes looking down on them as the queen surveying her subjects. The queen doesn’t find it necessary to listen to her subjects; she doesn’t find it necessary to take their opinions into account. She is the sovereign, the supreme ruler of the Kingdom. The queen does what she wants to do, what she thinks is right—“no, we are doing this _my_ way.”

 

Two: her nose turns up slightly, chin lifting in defiance of the plan they’re concocting without her; the six-terms-all-unopposed mayor is enduring a council meeting she honestly has no interest in. She frequently cuts in to dissent with what they’re discussing, “that is a foolish idea.”

 

However, four fifths of those sitting in front of her know her well enough to deduce that this is all a façade. Her arms—folded across her chest—give it away; it’s a tell-tale sign Regina has performed for decades that emits vulnerability, anxiety and pain. This mask is somewhat not a mask at all, it’s simply Regina: a mother unequivocally terrified for her son’s wellbeing.

 

“Fifty-eight.” It comes out of nowhere, and everyone’s attention turns to the woman hovering over everyone like a child trying to engage in a tedious conversation with their family at dinner, when they really just want to bolt and play video games instead.

 

Snow is the one to reply, “fifty-eight?” she asks, and frowns slightly.

 

The tone in her voice provokes an inevitable eye roll from her stepmother. Sometimes, Snow’s voice is so sickly sweet—pertaining to the fairytale character she actually is—that it incites an almost nails-on-a-chalkboard experience for Regina. “Yes, Snow. Fifty-eight. Fifty-eight minutes since the wicked witch of the West kidnapped my son and… and…” she throws her hands up in the air in frustration. “He could be _dead_ , and we’re still standing here braiding each others’ hair and sharing ideas of plans of which we do not have the time to formulate. We have to go. Now.”

 

“We can’t just waltz in without a plan.” Emma states. She’s leaning forward, legs spread apart with both elbows resting on her lower thighs. “Look, this is what I do, I know how to deal with this sorta stuff, and believe me, that’s _exactly_ what An—… _Zelena_ wants us to do. She wants us to act quickly and go in completely unprepared. And well, we’re not going to do that. We’re gonna think of a plan and stick to it, you all got that?” She doesn’t wait for a reply, “good.”

 

“Mm,” she raises her eyebrows. “And that’s your idea of a democratic decision, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma rolls a hair-tie off her wrist, gathering her hair at the back of her head and secures it into a ponytail. “No. It’s not. But your idea of going in all guns-a-blazing isn’t exactly something we would all vote for either, _Madam Mayor_.” She reaches into her pocket, glances at her phone and looks back up to the brunette. “Like you said, there isn’t time to find out what everyone thinks. We just have to figure out what’s going to be the best way to get Henry back. Listen, I’m not trying to… one-up you, Regina. I do this for a living. Believe me, I got this. You don’t have to worry.”

 

“What you do for a living doesn’t include dealing with dark magic. You’re foolish to assume you can take on a women with capabilities of which you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

 

“Yeah, well that’s why I think it’d be a good idea for us to work as a team. We all have different abilities, different specialties.” She pauses, looking around the room. “I mean, for one, Prince Charming is supposed to be a crazy sword wielder, right? Or is that Sleeping Beauty’s husband?”

 

David perks up; a grin spreads across his face as he looks to Snow to provide confirmation. When she shoots him an irritated look, clearly provoked by anxiety over her grandson being abducted, his attention fades to Emma. “Yeah I am. Ironically, a woman named Anna taught me to swordfight… not the same one though. I don’t think so, anyway.”

 

“Great, awesome… and Snow White… can talk to birds?”

 

Snow blinks, “I—”

 

“Actually,” Regina cuts in before Snow can say another word. She knows that Snow will try her best to be as polite as possible in informing Emma that the fairytale characters she’s come to ‘know’ as a child, aren’t exactly the ones mirrored in their world. “As much as I enjoy your mother’s attempt at… keeping harmony by conversing with animals, if I remember correctly, she is particularly gifted with a bow and arrow.”

 

Snow turns to look at Regina, a soft smile reflects from both her mouth and the glint in her eyes. She isn’t used to compliments, particularly ones spewing from the mouth of a woman of whom she used to call her ‘sworn enemy.’ But this moment, this civility between them—albeit with a few prior setbacks—feels comfortable, it feels like home.

 

Regina sometimes forgets how much she went through with Snow. In fact, she had practically raised her from aged ten to eighteen, and even though she was a nauseating little brat for the majority of that time, it was always nice to have someone to escape to, even if it was only to braid her hair and tell her calming stories of Princes and Princesses fighting off dragons. She didn’t always loathe Snow’s existence, she didn’t always want to kill her, and being in post-curse Storybrooke had allowed her to reminisce in that fact. She’d actually managed salvage the fondness she’d once exercised when they first met, when they were first getting to know each other, when Daniel had just been executed for loving her. Darkness had invaded her heart, but there was nothing that would stop her from being a good mother to Snow, even if she did occasionally asphyxiate her in her dreams at night; Regina never actually _wanted_ that ferocity to become a reality.

 

Regina hasn’t had time to process any of these feelings she’s been experiencing, not since Emma first drove over the town line two years ago. It’s as if Emma triggered an avalanche of fear, hope, anger, love, distrust in her, and a storm of vengeful villains who always—for some reason or another—have an issue with the Evil Queen. For once, she’d just like a rest, even if the uncontrollable thought of “I deserve this” floods her mind every time another person makes an attempt at taking her life. She understands there’s always a reason behind their anger, behind their sadness, just like there was with hers. But with Zelena… Regina just can’t quite put her finger on what it is about her that antagonises her sister so much.

 

“Thank you,” Snow nods towards her, and Regina can’t help but just nod back. Her eyes lower to her fingers, where she’s uncharacteristically picking at her cuticles.

 

This almost feels like the time Henry had run away to Boston to find Emma. Regina was completely unaware of his whereabouts, and whether or not his was warm and safe and happy. She’d frantically waited at home, instructed by Graham who had thought it be best for her to “stay here, just in case the boy comes back. I’ll drive around town, see if I can spot him anywhere.” So she’d tried anything to keep her mind off the only person in this life she’d ever grown to love; she’d paced the hallway, tried to read a book, tried to focus on some paperwork, but nothing prevailed over the nerves of a fretful mother.

 

“You know, Regina,” there’s a smirk on Snow’s face that screams a melange of triumph and smugness, and it reminds her too much of Emma. “That’s the first compliment you’ve paid to me since we got back here.”

 

Regina narrows her eyes, “and it’ll be the last if you don’t be quiet.” She turns her head to where Emma is sitting. The blonde is in the middle of a conversation with Belle, who is pointing at an open book resting on her lap. They certainly do not have time for theory; they need to put this plan—whatever plan they actually have—into practice. “I think it would be more beneficial for me to go alone than to bring along a group of people who have absolutely no experience in dealing with this sort of magic, other than getting hurt by it.” She glances over to the others, “I’ll get Henry, and poof him out of there. Then Zelena and I will have time to discuss what the hell I ever did to her—and then, with any luck, I’ll kill her.”

 

“Going into this alone is unwise, Regina,” Charming begins. He’s on the edge of his seat, and most likely on the edge of a hope speech. “We can’t let her beat us. We _won’t_ let her beat us. As Emma said before, what she wants is for you to go in without a plan with the belief that you can take her one-on-one.” His voice quietens, “there’s a reason she brought us to this world. There’s a reason she wiped our memories, if we just figure that out, then we’ve got her. We’re a team, and teams do things together. Are we in?”

 

Regina clicks her tongue, pushing away the urge to roll her eyes. “Zelena wants me. She said that she would do a trade, Henry for me. All I am concerned with at this moment in time is my son. Once he is safe, then I will begin to think about anyone else’s wellbeing, including my own.”

 

“Fine.” Emma stands, pushing the sleeves of her red jacket up to her elbows. “You wanna run the show? Run it. But as soon as Henry is out of there, we’ve got your back. If you need us, we’ll be there.”

 

The others begin to talk among themselves, thoughts of what they can do in preparation while Regina trades herself in for Henry. But Belle’s thick accent rings in the air, working in favour for her and providing nothing but force over the stampede of everyone else’s. “We still have one more problem, we don’t know where Zelena is hiding.”

 

“Wait,” there’s a frown plastered across Emma’s face. It’s as if she’s lost in a paradox—in a bout of deep thought, but also present in the current conversation. “The farmhouse. I’ve been dreaming of a farmhouse near the edge of a town almost every night since I got here. I wasn’t sure why or… what significance it had to me, but it’s the best guess I have? Is there a farmhouse on the edge of town?” Her attention turns to Regina, clearly knowing she’s the mayor and most likely has knowledge on all residential areas in the town.

 

Regina nods slightly, “yes. There’s an empty farmhouse. I’m sure Ruby used to utilise it during her time of the month. It’s located next to the forest, and there are no houses near it for about half a mile, thus it was perfect. I assume she hasn’t been back if Zelena overtook it.”

 

“Ew.” Emma wrinkles her nose, “thanks for that.”

 

“She’s a wolf, dear.”

 

Regina chooses to disregard Emma’s incredibly surprised “really?” and pulls a pair of red gloves on instead.

 

“She hasn’t.” Snow offers, but when nobody responds, she expands on the matter. “Ruby. She hasn’t been back for a while. She said that she thought something weird was going on there, but I assured her it… was… nothing…”

 

Regina presses two fingers to her temple, muttering, “and they wanted you to rule a Kingdom. I’m suddenly thankful that I remained Queen, otherwise there may have not even been a Kingdom to rule after you were done with it.”

 

“You brutally murdered a large percentage of the population!” Snow extends her arms in confusion to reinforce her argument, “I assure you that would have not happened if I were rightfully on the throne.”

 

Regina clasps her hands together. “Oh, how naïve. There’s more to ruling a Kingdom balls and bluebirds, my dear. I assume you’ll be blindly running for mayor next.”

 

“Maybe I will.”

 

“I look forward to i—”

 

“Alright! We’re getting off course.” Emma interrupts. “Just… settle _down,_ Jesus. Are you two always like this?”

 

Charming pats his daughter on the back, a weak smile on his face, “at least they’re not threatening death upon the other. That’s a lot of progress, believe me.”

 

That’s when an eerie silence kicks in. The group look around at each other, stand from their seats and either exit into another room after tidying away cups of tea and coffee, or stand awkwardly wondering what to do. The only person that doesn’t move a muscle is Regina. Her thoughts are focused elsewhere, on the certainty that she is willing to die for the safety of her son. If it comes to it, if she believes Zelena is stronger than her and that she can’t win, she’ll make a trade, a trade Zelena won’t be able to turn down—her life.

 

Regina catches Emma motion to Charming to leave the room, as she turns to the brunette and makes her way towards her. Once the room is rid of unwanted dawdlers, Emma smiles; it’s a smile so genuine that Regina can’t place its purpose.

 

“Are you okay?”

 

Regina just nods, while Emma takes a different approach. She knows she’s lying. She senses the anxiety, the fear Regina may not even admit to feeling herself, and reaches out. The younger woman’s hands lift to rest on Regina’s upper arms, she rubs them ever so slightly, comfortingly even, and it makes Regina wary of what’s happening.

 

She doesn’t move from Emma’s touch, but what comes out of her mouth is completely what Emma expects, “what do you think you’re doing, Miss Swan?”

 

Emma’s eyes glint in the light. “Believing in you,” she murmurs and slides her hands down to intertwine their fingers together.

 

Regina’s brow furrows as her eyes lock with Emma’s green ones. She’d never noticed the strength of the colour before, how it looks in different lights, how it’s shimmering beneath a wall of moisture. She swallows.

 

“Don’t trade yourself. Let’s both go in, get Henry and get out of there as fast as we can.” Emma squeezes Regina’s hands gently, taking a deep breath, “and then we can really work on getting my memories back. I’ve been a little…” she lets out a nervous laugh, “distant about that. Like, I haven’t really wanted to? I… didn’t really believe it. But I do. I believe it. I believe you can do this. I believe that Henry will be fine. I believe in us, in what we have.”

 

An eyebrow lifts. “And what do we have?”

 

“Something.” She shrugs, “we have something. Magic, power… I guess.”

 

“You’ve always had a way with words.” Regina smirks slightly, and runs her tongue over her lips. “But right now, we must focus on getting Henry out of there. Not on whatever this _something_ is.”

 

Emma lets go of her hands. “Mhm, but only if you don’t go alone. From what I’ve heard, we make a pretty badass team.”

 

“From what you’ve heard?”

 

“The kid.”

 

“Ah,” Regina lifts her chin slightly in comprehension. “Understandable,” she sighs and feigns irritability. “I suppose you wouldn’t be a negative addition to my plan. However, you must do what I say. I don’t want any of this… ‘ _winging_ it when I haven’t any idea what else to do’ that you seem to be so fond of. We don’t have wings dear, thus, we don’t _wing_ anything.”

 

The blonde lifts a hand in salute, closes the gap between her feet and shouts, “yes ma’am.”

 

Regina barely flinches, arms dangling at her sides. They still feel tingly and hot from when Emma touched them earlier. “I’m a Queen, Emma, not a colonel.”

 

“Of course,” Emma curtsies, “Your Majesty.”

 

“You are insufferable.”

 

Emma slumps back down in an armchair. She reaches for a glass of water with no owner and sips it slightly. There’s a grin on her face as she tosses out a small, “there’s a thin line between love and hate.”

 

“Indeed,” Regina wets her lips again and fastens the buttons on the seam of her coat. “I think we should go. Zelena will be waiting. Listen to my plan. I’ll go in, trade myself, and successfully get Henry out of there. You will be waiting outside. Once Henry comes outside, take him home. Make sure he’s okay, make sure he’s warm and protected and…” Regina nods and swallows. “Then—only then—do you come back and help me get rid of my sister.”

 

“Gotcha.” Emma bobs her head slightly, “she can’t be worse than your mother though, _she_ was a real piece of work.”

 

It’s a comment so flippant and atypically casual that it catches Regina off-guard. She blinks a few times before turning to look in Emma’s direction, as if she’s trying to distinguish between fantasy and reality. She blinks once more, hands curling into tight fists in more of a confused, protective way than something spurred by anger or deceit. “What?” It comes out tighter and more restrained than she had liked it to, but she can’t take it back now. “What did you just say?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“You remember my mother?”

 

Emma’s brow furrows slightly. She places the glass of water back onto the coffee table, and presses two fingers to her forehead. Her eyes scrunch up slightly, “yeah. I do. Cora, right? Brown hair, brown eyes, looks almost exactly like you—but not Latina.”

 

“Sixty-five minutes,” she glances at the clock. “We’ll talk about this later,” and with a wave of her hands, the two of them are enveloped in a cloud of purple smoke for almost a second before landing in front of the old farmhouse.

 

Their sudden relocation turns Emma’s stomach. "Seriously?" Her skin is paler than usual, and she’s leaning on the fence of the house, doubled over with a hand perched just below her belly button. “Hey, Regina? Maybe give me some kind of warning next time, I'd really appreciate that.”

 

“Shush.” With a turn of her head, she studies Emma long enough to see the blonde stand back up, and direct her attention to Regina. Their eyes lock together for a moment, and both corners of their lips turn upwards. “Wait for Henry.”

 

With a nod, Emma reaches out and takes Regina’s hand. The heat, once again, pools between their hands; magic sparking and spitting through their veins to the ends of their fingertips, attacking every nerve in their body as if its survival depends on only their touch. Emma squeezes Regina’s hand gently, ignoring the sensations that almost have too much strength to disregard. She runs her thumb over the back of it, “and then I’ll come back for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments, kudos and views on the last chapter. I really appreciate it. Let me know what you think!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mentions (however, no graphic description) of burning, bones breaking and blood. Please do not read if you are sensitive or triggered by these things.

It all happens so fast.

 

There’s heat and chill at the same time.

 

Something ripples through her veins, tearing at her skin as she tightens her jaw and refuses to vocalise any feelings of physical pain in front of her son. She has to be strong for him; like he’s been strong for her these past years… but all thoughts are wiped away as her hands become stiff, beginning to burn as if the fireball she previously conjured is still there, turning on her, attacking the skin on her hands, her arms, up through her entire body as she writhes in unsolicited pain.

 

A small whimper escapes her, and she quickly closes her mouth tightly, mind flittering to something, some _one_ who exerts comfort.

 

Emma.

 

Stupid, _sweet_ Emma, waiting idly outside for their son to appear, for him to run into her arms like there’s no tomorrow—because, well, maybe there won’t be.

 

 

 

 

There’s a release—

 

—calmness, peace.

 

But she’s tired and exhausted and drained, and the images she’s seeing are gloomy and mysterious and anything but the out-dated farmhouse she thought she was in.

 

 

 

 

And it’s cold now, but not frightfully cold—just right.

 

Darkness and lightness all at the same time envelopes her soul like she’s been waiting for this moment since she stepped in the door, since Neverland, since she finally realised she didn’t need any of this, this… and it’s… oh, _freedom._

 

But it’s ripped away as quickly as it’s given her by a tightness in her chest, squeezing and clutching at the only thing inside her that’s keeping her alive, keeping her human almost.

 

She opens her eyes.

 

The farmhouse returns. Blink. Her sister is standing in front of her and Henry to the side, but she daren’t look. She just blinks. Everything is back to normal.  _Almost_ everything. There’s still something missing; as if Zelena stole a part of her without even lifting a finger, without even as much as trying to take anything from her, she took it—without permission—and stripped Regina emotionally naked to the point of no return.

 

There’s no time to think about it, there’s no time to dwell on being powerless, and how _weak_ she feels in her bones, in the depths of her veins and the circuits of her brain to the ends of her fingernails.

 

She feels it.

 

She _felt_ it, seeping out of her, leaving as if it never wanted to come back, and there’s a small voice in the back of her head telling her she doesn’t want it back, she doesn’t _need_ it, but she _does_. She can’t come out of this situation alive without… _it._

 

Whatever Zelena wants to do to her, Regina’s going to have to take it, take it like she once took the physical and emotional abuse of her mother, of Rumplestiltskin, of the King.

 

She deadpans.

 

Zelena clatters around in her chest, as if wanting to break every rib in her body to make sure she’s completely helpless, entirely feeble and unable to fight back. She pulls and tugs and yanks with the force of a lion tearing its prey to pieces, and she strips her of the only thing that’s keeping Regina mortal, the only thing that gives her any sort of power over Zelena—she takes it, and Regina scolds herself for being so oblivious to what her sister wanted from her.

 

_“Never take your heart to a witch fight.”_

 

But this isn’t a witch fight anymore.

 

She pushes away trivial thoughts of whose life is going to be taken tonight, who is going to survive this inevitably _stupid_ fight over absolutely nothing at all.

 

Her son is in the room and there’s a possibility that his life is in danger, so she tries to push aside the discomfort of the air being knocked out of her and splutters slightly, just once, and then takes a big gasp of air. She grasps onto the nearest object to keep her upright, and her eyes flicker over to where he’s standing, lip trembling and eyes watering as if he’s five years old again and he’s just scraped his knee falling off his new bike.

 

But this is entirely different.

 

She screams at him.

 

She screams so loud that her voice is hoarse within a few seconds. The words she says are all a blur, just desperate shrieks for him to leave, to get out of here, to find Emma and never come back—to maybe even _leave_ Storybrooke, to leave her behind.

 

But he’s stubborn.

 

He’s as stubborn as his stupid mother waiting outside, and it hits Regina for a moment that Emma hasn’t kicked down the door and tried to take on Zelena herself. But Emma isn’t _Emma_. Yet—she keeps reminding herself, and it’s aggravating her that Emma acts so much like a saviour that Henry wants to be _like_ her and therefore won’t leave Regina alone with Zelena.

 

She needs Henry to be weak. She needs him to be five years old. She needs him to be that little, eleven-year-old boy who wanted the Evil Queen dead. She wants him to think that, to want her dead, so this is all easier for him, for her, easier for him to leave her and leave Zelena to do with her what she will.

 

But he’s not that type of boy: he’s the son of a Queen, the son of a Saviour.

 

And she’s right; he shakes his head and stumbles over his own two feet as he approaches her tentatively. His lips move quickly as he mumbles out a few words of which she doesn’t catch because her mind is elsewhere.

 

But she says something again, more forceful this time, with tears in her eyes and hands reaching out to touch his face—his beautifully _, handsome_ face, all grown up and now… not really her little boy anymore, “I’m a man, mom” he would say with a grin, but he’s not grinning. He’s crying, her little boy is crying with tears of trepidation and worry about leaving his mother alone with the woman who wants to kill her.

 

She uses all of her strength to remember the curves and lines and dimples of his face. Something like “I love you, but you have to go” spills from her mouth, raspy and unrefined, but she finally gets something out coherently. His response is the only thing she’s ever needed to hear from him, even if she does only read her lips because the blood in her ears is pounding over the sound of everyone’s voices.

 

“I believe in you.”

 

The look of pure trepidation as he staggers, but successfully backs out of the farmhouse is something Regina will never forget.

 

He knows that at the end of this, he may only have one mother again, and she knows that this may be the last time she ever sees or hears or speaks to her son.

 

But she remembers to have hope, and she almost kicks herself for thinking such a thing because it reminds her so much of Snow and so much of everything she once used to hate that it pains her to be acting the same way. But she has to believe in something like Henry believes in her; she has to believe in herself, in hope, in _anything_ to even have a chance of getting out of this alive.

 

As soon as he leaves, there’s a physical loss, an emotional loss and a mist of regret in the air.

 

She wants him back. She wants to hug him; to hold onto him forever and never let go. Tears stream down her face silently for a few moments, basking in the quietness of the room and nursing her throat almost violently, nails scratching, fingers tearing, leaving bumps and rashes and _blood_. But it’s almost too odd to experience such stillness after a bout of, paradoxically, war and peace.

 

It doesn’t last long. It’s disturbed by the sound of singular applause, directing Regina’s attention to Zelena. “Wow,” she moves closer to her sister, heels hitting the floor with every step. She smirks as she leans in, “you really like to put on a show, don’t you, sis?”

 

Regina doesn’t give a response.

 

(Apart from an inaudible gulp and the realisation that her throat now feels like sandpaper, dull and gruff and urgently in need of some water to soothe it.)

 

She can’t give Zelena what she wants: she wants satisfaction, weakness, and submission. But she isn’t giving her it. She isn’t begging to live, or begging to die. She’s just… silent, and with silence comes power.

 

Keeping Zelena calm and collected for as long as she can will enable her to buy back some time, some time to think and devise a plan of how she’s going to disarm Zelena by somehow destroying or removing the amulet hanging around her neck.

 

(Belle’s brains really _do_ come in handy. Regina makes a mental note to thank her again.)

 

“Cat got your tongue?”

 

With more silence comes an irritated Zelena. She crosses her arms across her chest, fumbling with her legs as she crosses them over too and watches Regina as she finds a stray piece of straw on the ground to focus on. “If I were you,” Zelena kicks her foot, hitting Regina’s shin in the process.

 

She flinches. But she doesn’t show emotion. She’s impassive, cold and detached and everything Zelena doesn’t want her to be.

 

The older woman motions to Regina’s exposed, beating heart, “I’d start talking.”

 

She sits forward, teeth showing and growling almost, “you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s a bite, the first verbal attack on her sister, and she immediately regrets taking such a stand so early on in the process, especially when a smug look spreads across Zelena’s face from sheer victory. “To be me,” she continues. She makes eye contact and doesn’t break it, not even with a blink, “to have this oh-so-wonderful life you’ve fabricated in place of my reality.” Regina crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking Zelena’s position, “you have no idea what I’ve been through, dear, because, to be quite frank, you don’t _know_ me.”

 

“Tell me about Emma.”

 

It’s like her voice is on autopilot, spinning out of control with every uncontrolled breath, and she can’t stop herself from biting “what?” and stewing in the frustration of sounding too concerned about the Saviour’s wellbeing.

 

Anger. That’s her downfall. She’s always so _angry._

 

Zelena repeats herself.

 

She sips a glass of water, motioning to her sister to take the glass opposite her, and Regina reluctantly obeys her sister’s wishes. Not only is her entire body aching from the rippling effects of whatever the hell Zelena did to her, but also she’s parched, exhausted and well and truly drained from everything that happened in the last five minutes.

 

Five minutes.

 

That’s all this has been.

 

“No.”

 

“Oh, sis.” Zelena’s voice is soft and eerily inviting, “why ever not?”

 

Regina takes a sip of the water, not thinking about the potentiality that it’s poisoned or diseased in some way that could kill her. If Zelena wanted her dead, she would be by now. “Because, _sis,_ this has nothing to do with Emma.” She leans forward in her chair, ignoring the dull ache in the small of her back. “She is a pawn in all of this. You used her to get to Henry. You used her to get to me. I don’t wish to talk about her. End of conversation.”

 

She watches as Zelena’s hand reaches out to the heart, slipping her fingers around it as if it’s a recently purchased handbag, but then squeezes mercilessly that she closes her eyes tightly to shield herself from the sight—and even though she’s done this to countless victims so many times before, she still can’t stand someone taking her _skill_ , as it could be called, and using it against her.

 

Regina whimpers softly, and Zelena counters it with a low cackle, “the conversation is over when I say it’s over. Understand?”

 

Regina provides no response, so with every word, Zelena squeezes just a little harder.

 

“Do.”

 

Squeeze—she isn’t squeezing as hard as Rumplestiltskin ever did.

 

“You.”

 

Squeeze—or her mother.

 

“Understand.”

 

She’s used to this. She’s used to the pain, the terror, the utmost exasperation of her heart—and life—being in someone else’s hands. 

 

Regina curls her fingers tightly into a ball, refusing to react as she quietly sits and takes what Zelena has, what strength she has to push Regina until it’s too late—

 

—but then she’s so close to crushing that Regina can feel it. She feels her body weaken, her eyes blacken, darken to the extent that she’s going to faint, but really she’s going to die, and everything becomes blurry. Zelena becomes wider, taller, she fills the entire room and—

 

_“Regina.”_

 

—relief.

 

She swells in a bout of energy, a bout of strength beneath her veins, prying into her skin as if it’s the only thing she has left in the world, and it fills her with so much defiance that a smirk spreads across her face.

 

“Why are you smirking?” Zelena slams Regina’s heart onto the table, “why aren’t you fighting back?

 

“I’m done fighting, Zelena.” She sighs, “if truth be told, fighting over a subject I’m not fully informed upon is both juvenile and completely unnecessary to say the least.” She clicks her tongue in annoyance, “I’d rather talk things over and get to the bottom of what all of this fuss is about, instead of throwing fireballs at each other and… hoping for the best.”

 

Zelena abruptly stands, “hoping for the best?” Her chair flips over behind her and she leans into Regina’s face, hands resting on the arms of the chair as she traps Regina in it, “hoping for the best?!” She takes a breath, “I’ll kill you. I will.”

 

“If you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now. Cut the crap, Zelena. I can see right through you.” There’s a smirk, and Regina lifts her chin up slightly, looking down over her nose at her sister as she pushes her back with a foot. “So tell me why I’m really here… why you have me here, in this chair, powerless. What do you want to talk about? What’s troubling you?”

 

“Tell me…” she stumbles back, flicks a finger and sits on the chair as it flips back upright. “About Emma, tell me about Henry, tell me about your little family.”

 

Regina almost spits, “no. I’m not interested in talking about them; I’m interested in talking about why the _hell_ you’re here trying to ruin my life. What did I _ever_ do to you?”

 

“Do we really have to go back to that, dear? I’ve already told you. You were _born_. And you being born ruined _everything_. _I_ was supposed to be queen. _I_ was supposed to be Cora’s only daughter, and she threw me away. For _you_.” The older woman slams her fist down on the table, inches away from Regina’s heart, “now, _tell me_ ,” she growls. “Tell me about your feelings for Emma.”

 

“I have no feelings.”

 

“Liar.”

 

Regina shakes her head, feigning nonchalance. “You’re mistaken. _She_ has feelings for _me_ , however I have absolutely none for her. It’s all an act. I’m especially talented in that area, I’ve had enough practice.” She feels her heart beating faster in apprehension, and wishes it to stop pounding so loudly. Her eyes close, and she tries to lift her hands to rub at them gently, but is restricted by Zelena’s will.

 

“You l…” Zelena frowns, “you actually love her. A woman. You love a _woman_.”

 

“No,” Regina begins. She makes eye contact. “I don’t love a woman. I love Emma.”

 

_Shit._

But Zelena doesn’t jump for joy, she doesn’t celebrate in getting Regina to talk, to admit her love for Emma, she just watches carefully, with a look on her face the Regina isn’t able to read.

 

There’s an almost comfortable silence swirling around them in the air for a moment, with the only noise being the sound of their synced breathing and Regina’s exposed beating heart.

 

And with that, Zelena softens. Her body relaxes, she uncrosses her legs and slouches in her chair. But she stiffens at the same time. She’s relaxed, but _aware_ almost. “What about the fairy dust? What about when Tinkerbell guided you to your soul mate that night?”

 

“Well, that isn’t… it didn’t—” Regina stops. Her eyes flicker up, “how on _earth_ …” she licks her lips slightly, the browns of her irises darkening to black, “do you know that.”

 

It’s not even a question. She already knows the answer.

 

Zelena shrugs, chuckling somewhat. “I was there. I used to watch you.”

 

“You used… to watch me.” Regina blinks. “How wonderful,” her jaw tightens in disapproval. “That isn’t abnormal at all.”

 

“I had the opportunity to, and so I did. I had the change to see what my life could have been like if Cora had kept me, had raised me like she raised you, if she hadn’t…” she swallows slightly, “ _tossed_ me away like yesterday’s trash.”

 

They’re the words she used to say to Emma. That Emma tossed Henry away like he was trash, like he didn’t matter to her, and she had resented her with every ounce of her being for that, for being so irresponsible and letting go of an innocent child.

 

But now, now it’s different. Now she’s thankful, thankful that Emma gave Henry away, thankful that she was able to adopt Henry, and thankful that Emma had come back into both of their lives.

 

“You had… everything: wealth, a Kingdom, a husband, a child, and then a potential soul mate. A soul mate,” she laughs. “Queen Regina had a soul mate when she already had a husband. You lived a life of luxury as a Queen. You did what you want, ate what you wanted, dressed like you wanted to dress… and I, I slaved away as a lowly _peasant_ for the first twenty years of my life when I should have been a QUEEN.”

 

Regina clears her throat, trying to push away the frown from the complete nonsense spouting out of Zelena’s mouth. “And you’re placing the blame on me?” An eyebrow lifts, “I had nothing to do with any of those circumstances. They were handed to me, on a silver platter, yes I agree with that, but they weren’t just handed to me, they were pushed onto me. My mother accepted everything for me. I never had a choice, no free will, no… chance to think for myself. I was shaped into a Queen, a cold-hearted, _Evil_ Queen.”

 

“You had a choice with your soul mate.”

 

“Yes, well. That choice never amounted to anything, did it?”

 

There’s a laugh, it’s low and sinister, somewhat eerie with a touch of amusement. Zelena stretches her arm out to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Regina’s ear, and softens her voice down to a level where it’s almost nice to hear it. But then what she says changes everything. It’s filled with malice and hatred and spite, and she almost spits on Regina’s face in vindictiveness as she laughs and laugh and laughs, and it echoes throughout the house that it never leaves Regina’s ear as she flashes with anger as she stands and tries to conjure a fireball—

 

—but it never comes.

 

She’s powerless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this chapter was extremely hard for me to write. I think it was mainly to do with the fact that this kind of style isn't something I particularly write every day, however I soldiered on and here it is. I hoped you enjoyed it.
> 
> We are coming to the end of this story. According to my plan, there are 20 chapters, however that _could_ change due to how long each chapter turns out to be. This chapter was meant to only comprise of half a chapter… buuuut I may have gotten carried away… just a little, so I decided to split this chapter into two chapters instead.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think! Thank you again for the kind comments, kudos and views. I really appreciate all the feedback—it helps to inspire me to write the next chapter! ;-)


	17. Chapter 17

“You _killed_ him? You ki—”

 

Zelena’s hold on her heart cuts her short. It’s almost as if the oxygen to her lungs has been blocked, but she’s not struggling to breathe. She just can’t speak, and the only thing that’s stopping her from lashing out at her sister is the dominant control she has on her.

 

“Ah, ah.” Zelena feels the tug as Regina pushes against the urge to obey. “Calm down,” she laughs softly. “He wasn’t even your ‘true love’ anyway. They don’t exist.”

 

She releases the hold on Regina’s voice, “how unexpected. You don’t believe in true love. I would have never guessed. Since you _slit_ the throat of _mine_.”

 

“Aren’t you listening? He wasn’t your true love, Regina.” Zelena steps forward, “I’ll let you in on a little secret, since you seem to care…” she pouts, “ _so_ much. I redirected the path of pixie dust to the nearest person, so that your journey would be skewed. You’d spend so much time doting on this… Robin Hood, that you’d eventually forget who you were destined to become, and grow soft. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as I had planned, however, you got to where you needed to be. Here. Right now. Soft as a peach.”

 

Regina crosses her arms over her chest, refusing to give Zelena the satisfaction of any reaction whatsoever. “So, you planned that. Who was it meant to lead me to?”

 

“Nobody. Because you don’t deserve to be happy.”

 

“And _you_ do?”

 

Regina feels a familiar, hot, stinging sensation on her cheek. She opens her eyes to realise that Zelena slapped her, and that there are tear stains down her sister’s cheeks.

 

Zelena snarls, breath hitting the exact spot she’d just lashed out at. “I deserve more than the _shit_ that was given to me.”

 

“Maybe so,” Regina suggests. “But that doesn’t mean you should take out your rage on me. You shouldn’t take your rage out on anyone, for that matter. Believe me, I learned the hard way. We…” she sighs softly. “People like us don’t win.”

 

She lets out a small laugh, “people like _us_? We are nothing alike.”

 

“Though, it’s hard to admit for me, we are. We’re very alike, in a multitude of ways.”

 

Zelena lifts an eyebrow. “Oh, you believe so? I have never killed anyone, I have never taken over a Kingdom by killing my husband, I have never… and would never dream of taking my anger out on a child that didn’t deserve such a thing.”

 

“Are you joking?” Regina laughs, shaking her head. “You’re taking out the circumstances my mother put you in on me, because I was _born_. Doesn’t that sound famil—?”

 

An envelope of green smoke surrounds the two sisters, cutting Regina’s sentence short. They reappear in a different location: Snow’s apartment; she, Emma, and Belle are all sitting at the table—that is, until they realise they have visitors, and stand up so quickly that the table rocks back and forth between them.

 

“Regina,” Emma states. She’s taken aback, but Regina notices her eyes are watery, and a little _too_ red to be taken as a coincidence. She’s been crying.

 

Regina feels her heart tighten in response to Emma’s voice, to the look on her face, to the tears brimming in her eyes—though she’s not sure whether the tightening is due to the fact that her heart is still in the palm of her sister’s hand. But she’s seventy-five per cent sure it was natural, because she’s never _seen_ Emma cry.

 

Okay, maybe she has, _once_ , but that was different. Emma was drunk, and upset, and confused over Neal getting shot and falling into a portal to… well, nowhere.

 

(“Here’s the thing, sometimes, I just… I _loved_ him, like really _loved_ , and yeah I was stupid and eighteen and we were in _love_ , and then I went from bein’ in love to bein’ in _prison_. Is it bad that I don’t want him back? Can you make sure he doesn’t come back? He’s jus’… _not_ good for me and Henry, or you… ‘cause you’re part of the family now, y’know? It’s weird having a _family_. A real family, like a mom and a dad and a son and you. Crazy—nah, _insane_ , isn’t it? One big happy family—ha! and they all lived happily ever after. Or not. I can tell you don’t like him, or didn’t… guess he’s gone now, or maybe he’s alive somewhere… _liiike_ Hogwarts. Guessin’ that exists too, ‘cause y’know witches and wizards and stuff. I bet Peter Pan was good pals with Voldemort. Wait… d’y’know Hagrid? Probably not your circle, huh? You’d be more of a… that French girls’ school kinda kid. ‘Cause I don’t think you’d be straight up Bellatrix L’Estrange immediately. Fleur Dela _bore_ and Regina… _Kills_. BFFs. Ha! … Oops, too soon, huh?” Hiccup. “I like you, Regina Mills. I like you a lot.”)

 

Emma took comfort in Regina (and her bed).

 

Snow’s eyes narrow, voice breaking the short silence between them. “What are you doing here, Zelena? What do you want?”

 

All three of them visibly stiffen as Zelena steps away from Regina, towards them. “Oh, you sweet, naïve child. _I_ don’t want anything. It’s my dear, little sister who wants something from you. I’m only here to watch the show.”

 

“The show?” The padding of a child’s bare feet stepping down the stairs fills the room.

 

Regina’s muscles tense slightly and her jaw tightens—she suppresses the urge to snap at Emma for failing to find somewhere safe for their son to stay or hide.

 

His voice is small and meek, not at all like the grown boy she’s grown to know over the past few months. “Mom…” his voice cracks, and the emotion trapped in the back of his throat makes him choke on his words. “Are… are y-you okay?”

 

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” but her heart almost breaks into pieces. The tears—hidden behind a reassuring smile—quickly disappear as she blinks them away. She’s desperately trying to swallow the fear of him being taken away from her, but that’s all that’s at the forefront of her mind, him being taken away, scared, hurt, lonely… _dead_.

 

Images of a limp corpse flash through her mind; a coffin lowering into the ground as Emma glares, standing, arms crossed at the other side of the ceremony—with a look, that unmistakeably blames Regina, painted on her face.

 

 _“You killed our son,”_ she can hear her say. _“You put his life in danger!”_

But this thought fades away, replaced with one of darkness not yet visited by Regina.

 

“Believe me,” Zelena steps towards Regina, fiddling with the belt on her skirt as if it’s imperative to her wicked demeanour. “You won’t be fine soon, _sweetheart_.”

 

Regina curls her hand into a fist, ready to lash out at any opportune moment. She had never physically hit someone, never felt the urge to use her hands to inflict any harm—except with the use of magic. She was never taught one-on-one combat, it just simply wasn’t necessary; though, her mother always believed it was something that “undesirable peasant women and men took part in,” she’d always been secretly entertained and amused by the thought of it.

 

She wasn’t a combat kind of woman, she always relied on magic, but now that her magic has been drained, she has to rely on what little knowledge she has of physical strength to defend herself.

 

It’s a losing battle—Zelena could command her to stop an attack at any time.

 

Her nails press so deeply into the palm of her hand that she draws blood. She feels the sting of the crescent cuts in her skin, but barely, if not at all, feels the pain that it should bring.

 

Her mind is elsewhere, on Henry’s wellbeing, on Emma, on Snow, on Belle, and how she can’t protect them from whatever wrath Zelena is about to unleash. She feels utterly powerless, lost, and so prematurely defeated that when she opens her mouth to speak, she decides against it, taking the path of silence instead.

 

She turns her attention to the four people standing in front of her, the four people she’s maybe hurt or affected the most in her life, and realises that they’re all on her side.

 

Belle, locked away for more than a quarter of a century, left alone to continually question why she deserves such mistreatment. But Regina realises now she _didn’t_. She didn’t deserve any of that, because Belle was just a pawn in a game against Rumplestiltskin’s happiness.

 

If she couldn’t be happy, no one could.

 

So, she focused on revenge. The only way she could ever be happy is if everyone else was miserable. When something was taken from her, she’d take something from someone else; a husband, a wife, a child, a mother, a father, a pet, a toy…

 

She took everything Snow. She killed her father in the dead of night by the hand of a man misled by lust. She took the Kingdom, took the thrown originally meant for the princess. She took her home, her comfort, her stability, and left her with only the clothes on her back; exiled from the castle as the woman wanted for crimes against the Queen: murder, treason, treachery.

 

But that wasn’t enough. She wanted her _life_ ; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—Snow for Daniel. Yet, she still couldn’t manage that. The odds were always in Snow’s favour.

 

(“Good always wins, Regina, and you’re as evil as they come.”)

 

What she did accomplish was to separate Snow and her baby. Emma, who was thrown into a world in a last shot attempt to avoid the Dark Curse to become the Saviour this world needed. Though she lost her way—spending her time in and out of the system, running from police, stealing, fighting and… _God_ knows what other debauchery—she came out on top.

 

Both of them, mother and daughter, though the past they’d been through, believed in Regina’s supposed innate goodness, in her ability to become the hero Henry always wanted to be.

 

(“Evil Queens are just the princesses that were never loved the way they were supposed to be.”

 

“I don’t _need_ anyone to love me. I’m perfectly capable of loving myself.”

 

“Well, you have Henry, and you have me… and yes, Madam Mayor, that means I love you.”)

 

She kept the truth from the boy who loved her the most, she was deceitful and careless in the way she treated Henry’s revelation of the Enchanted Forest. Her excuse was always that she loved him _too_ much to let him go, to let him gain knowledge of who she was and who she used to be, because then he’d leave. Like everyone else did.

 

There’s a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach, which she only now realises may have been there all along. She was just too ignorant and blinded by rage to acknowledge the harm she’d done to her… _family_.

 

Yet, there’s no animosity between them at this very moment. They’re all counting on her.

 

“It’s time to begin,” Zelena lifts her sister’s heart to her lips. “Sit.”

 

Regina struggles in an attempt to refuse to give into the voice inside her head. “I’m not a dog,” she manages to bite out before she submits to save her strength.

 

Henry steps forward, his eyes widened and locked on his mother’s heart, but Emma pulls him back, pushing him behind her so that her body is almost like a shield to his.

 

“Is… that Regina’s heart?” is the question Henry was about to ask, but Snow takes the words out of his mouth. While she sounds confident, she crosses her arms over her stomach to wrap her cardigan more tightly around her torso in an aid to soothe her worried self.

 

Zelena rolls her eyes. “What do you think?” She turns her head to Regina, baring her teeth in an attempt at a genuine smile. “Regina, dear? Have I ever told you how much I always wanted you to get your happy ending? Well, I suppose now you do. I’ve always wanted it, but now it’s the cherry on top of the cake because, your former happy ending is now your worst nightmare.”

 

Silence swarms around them as the room heats up in anticipation for what is about to come.

 

Emma’s grip on Henry’s wrist tightens; he scowls in disobedience but softens as he comes to understand what is about to happen. Snow’s fingers play with the hems of her cardigan while Belle stares at the amulet around Zelena’s neck.

 

“I want you to rip Snow White’s heart out. I want you to use this,” she holds up the dagger that she previously used to gauge Henry’s neck. “To cut it out.”

 

Regina reacts immediately, feet carrying her over to Zelena to take the dagger and then she turns to the four people standing in front of her.

 

“Once you’ve finished the first task, we’ll move onto Henry, and then Emma.” Zelena takes a breath, sitting on the chair Regina once sat at. “Oh, and Belle? You’ll be locked up again. It’s far too much of an effort to kill you, and to be frank, you’re not worth it, dear.”

 

No one speaks. The sound of a pin dropping would make everyone in the room jump in fright.

 

Regina’s eyes lower to stare at the ground. Her hands begin to shake, and she doesn’t hear any of the words anyone is speaking if they dare to. Her breath becomes raggedy, and there’s a weight on her shoulders that she can’t shift, pushing her slowly down to the floor. Feet feeling heavy and bigger than usual, she takes two lungs full of air in and breathes out.

 

This is it. This is where she fights. This is where she uses all that pent up energy, all the strength she’s saved, all the anger and trepidation over the years to reject Zelena’s wishes.

 

But it’s too strong. She takes a step towards Snow—there’s almost a magnetic pull between their bodies, connected in some way, and she grips so tightly onto the dagger in noncompliance that her hand feels numb.

 

She closes her eyes for a moment, centring her energy. She swallows air and grits her teeth and grasps the dagger so forcefully that tears begin to flow. “No.”

 

“What?” Zelena’s eyebrows quirk up, a look of absolute delight beaming from her face.

 

Her body begins to shake, to quiver and tremble against the authority of magic. Mascara stains her cheeks, and she presses her toes into the soles of her boots to keep her feet glued to the ground. “No,” she shakes her head violently, swallowing a newly formed lump in her throat. “ _Don’t_ make me do this. You don’t have to do this.”

 

“But this is what you’ve wanted for so long. To kill Snow White, and wanting to kill Snow White means that you would have erased both Emma and Henry’s existence. It’s all you wanted, sis, and now you’re getting it. Your revenge.”

 

She growls, “this… _this_ is too far.”

 

Emma moves over to Regina and places a hand on her arm.

 

“Hey,” the blonde says. There’s a small smile firmly painted on her face, and it’s so simple that it makes Regina whimper slightly. She sobs and tears fall from her eyes as if she’s never had the luxury of crying before. “Calm down,” she whispers. A hand reaches up, and she brushes away a tear with the pad of her thumb. “You’re stronger than her.”

 

“Kill her.”

 

Regina expects Emma to move, to get away from her, but she stays exactly where she is. The tightness of the grip on her arm changes only in the way that it softens, and she begins to rub it comfortingly—it’s soft and calming and everything Regina needs right now.

 

But she can’t focus on anything but satisfying the itch of plunging the dagger into Emma and watching her bleed.

 

This is how she felt when she wanted—no, _needed_ —revenge; filled with anger and hatred and all things terrible, she craved the suffering, sadness and death of others. It was a desire, an addiction that latched itself onto the tissue of her brain, digging and digging until it found the perfect spot to multiply.

 

She wants to kill all of them. She wants to kill Emma, and Henry, and Snow, and Belle. The hot, sticky urge rises from the pit of her stomach to her chest and up to her head, where it again, fills her with ideas of finally holding Snow White’s heart in her hand, of finally having Henry all to herself before she brutally murders him to.

 

It’s all so scary, and upsetting, but inviting all at the same time. She can’t fathom it. Why would she want to kill her own son? It’s never felt this way before, and she’s not sure whether it’s the lack of magic running through her veins or the excess of love in her heart. 

 

She wants to take the step, the alluring step to cut out Snow’s heart, and then she’s one-third of the way into getting rid of the urge.

 

“Emma,” she splutters. “Get away from me, get… get everyone out of here. Now.”

 

She shakes her head, “no. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to hurt anyone, you’re stronger than this kind of magic.”

 

Regina presses her lips together tightly in an attempt to not sob, but it comes out anyway. Her arms are outstretched, shaking and trembling in a way that she hasn’t felt before. But she can feel her strength declining as the shaking develops erratically. “I can’t hold it for much longer. Stop being such a damn _idiot_ and get away from me. I don’t _want_ your help.”

 

It’s an attempt to scare Emma away, which seems to backfire.

 

“No. Listen to me. Who are you right now? Look at me,” she places a finger underneath Regina’s chin and turns her to look at her; their eyes lock, green against brown in a battle of dominance. “You’re Regina _fucking_ Mills. You’ve transcended realms, stopped unstoppable curses; you’ve defeated villains and fought inner demons, and that was only this year. _This_? This is nothing compared to all of that.”

 

Zelena cuts in, mesmerised, “do we have any popcorn? This is far too good. You heroes all have so much _hope_ , it would be endearing if it weren’t completely senseless. No one has ever broken a command through this spell, _no one_. Not even me.”

 

“Ignore her, just listen to me,” Emma whispers. “Give me the dagger.”

 

Regina stutters, almost breathless. “Kill me. K-kill me before I do anything stupid; kill me before I kill all… all of you. It’s too much, I _can’t_ stop.”

 

“Yes, you can. Believe in yourself. Where is the Regina I know and love? I’m not going to kill you; you’re stupid to think I could even think about doing that. Give me the dagger, and take my hand.”

 

Regina pushes Emma way from her, “don’t be so damn foolish.” Her eyes darken, “do you want to see how strong I am without magic? No, you _don’t_ , because you’ll _die_. I don’t have magic to protect you all anymore, I can’t… save the day like I used to, I can’t do anything about this!” Her teeth grit in annoyance, “so leave. Get out.”

 

“Mom,” Henry takes Emma’s hand. His face is plagued with concern. “Let Emma help you.”

 

Emma offers Regina her free hand. “We believe in you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, let me know what you think! All the views, comments, kudos etc, on this fic continues to surprise me. I wasn't even sure whether anyone would read it. Just know that I really appreciate it!


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait, it seems I can't write this story unless I have looming exams—which I do, and I'm so terrified for them, I decided to write this chapter instead of studying. However, I must point out that I did have the outline of this chapter _before_ the finale, I hold my hand to my heart and make that promise. They have some familiarities and I'm sure Adam Horowitz is lurking in the back of my brain somehow. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave a comment to tell me what you think once you've read it—thank you again for sticking with me!
> 
> Warning: this chapter includes mentions of suicide and depictions of blood. Please do not read if you are sensitive or triggered by these things.

 

She hears Zelena’s voice vibrating in her heart,

_kill them or kill yourself._

 

The knife falls to the floor in a clatter, noise making everyone jump bar Regina. Her eyes are instead transfixed on the proffered hand Emma now drops in disbelief, maybe trepidation—possibly a melange of them both.

 

Regina’s mouth parts ever so slightly, she glances down to her hand, outstretched and glistening in the dim light of the room, and she chokes on her breath. She splutters and whimpers and squeezes her fingers into a fist, liquid oozing through the cracks in her fingers. She flinches as Emma steps closer to her, and presses her own hand into her stomach in an attempt to stop the blood from escaping her now quivering body.

 

No words are exchanged; the entire room is plagued with silence save the quiet, consistent drips of blood connecting with the wooden floor.

 

The wound is deep, deeper than intended but deep enough to achieve the goal, deep enough to kill her. Tears sting the corners of her eyes, and she stumbles back, whimpering in pain. Emma catches her, free arm snaking around Regina’s waist as she slowly lowers her to the floor.

 

Emma still can’t speak, she can’t say a word; she feels like her entire throat has been ripped out and thrown away with the trash. It’s suddenly cold in the room, and Regina is shaking, everyone is shaking, the ground even feels like it’s shaking. Her breath is loud and raggedy, and she can’t see anything but blood; blood, blood and the terrified look on Henry’s face out of the corner of her eye.

 

That image is enough to stun her out of this fictional world Regina fashioned for her; she remembers. She remembers everything; bringing Henry to Storybrooke after he found himself in Boston, meeting Regina for the first time and thinking she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen in her entire life, and believing she may be be falling in love for the very first time. All the feelings flood back, and she retaliates by pressing her hand harder into Regina’s wound—it’s an almost physical “ _why the fuck did you just do that?_ ”

 

Emma looks away, eyes lowering to the floor and they glaze over slightly; but she’s just aware enough to hazily watch Snow grab Henry in an attempt to shield him from his mother’s voluntary submission—but he rebels. He loves his mother too much to sit back and not do anything.

 

She hears him scream and shout and watches him try to kick his way out of the human cage. Emma has never heard him like this before; she’s never seen or heard this side of Henry. His voice is filled with so much determination and desperation that he’s crying. He’s clawing at Snow’s arm, and Emma watches as her Dad steps in to assist.

 

Emma doesn’t think she’s ever cried so much in her life without realising. Her cheeks are wet, and her eyes keep filling with tears so quickly that she tries to blink them away unsuccessfully. “Call 911,” she manages to get out, voice hoarse and tone harsh. “Call 911!”

 

Her attention turns to the wound, lifting her hand to examine the damage, but the blood continues to surge from Regina’s body. Emma jumps up, grabs a cloth from the kitchen and returns to Regina, where she presses this into the wound instead of the sleeve of her jacket.

 

Regina grunts slightly, eyes closing for a moment before they reopen and lock with Emma’s, but the blonde turns ever so slightly, just to see Belle reaching for her cell phone.

 

She turns to Zelena, eyes dark and unforgiving, but then she frowns, confused. Zelena isn’t doing anything. She isn’t stopping Belle, she isn’t stopping Emma; she isn’t doing _anything_. She just sits there, seemingly unfazed, almost hypnotised by Regina’s still body lying on the ground. “You fucking did this,” Emma growls. “You fucking made her kill herself. You’re _sick_ , you’re _disgusting_ … g-get the _fuck_ out of here before I tear you apart with my bare hands.”

 

“But I’m watching the show,” it’s innocent and so sickly sweet that it almost makes Emma gag. “It’s just getting good. Don’t you see? This is all I’ve ever wanted. She won’t survive this.”

 

Emma stands, leaving Regina’s body for a moment to prowl towards Zelena. She grabs her neck, eyes blackening in complete rage. “You fucking… you…” her teeth are gritted, bare as if she’s a lion about to devour her prey, and her grip on Zelena tightens; she digs her nails into her pale flesh, intentionally drawing blood and smiles. “You’re dead.”

 

Zelena rolls her eyes, “oh, alright. Go on then, kill me.” She picks a loose piece of thread from her dress. “If you ask me, the saviour doesn’t have it in her to take someone’s life.”

 

“Nah,” Emma breathes. She knows Zelena is intentionally trying to provoke her, but she isn’t going to succumb to the urge. “You’re not worth it.” She drags her nails down to her chest, wraps her fingers around the chain of the amulet and tears it from Zelena’s body. “Powerless.”

 

Emma expects Zelena to attack, to claw and rip Emma’s flesh open in anger, but she does nothing of the sort. In fact, she barely flinches. The older woman’s eyes lower to the floor, and she whispers a small “thank you.”

 

“What?” Emma bites, teeth clenched.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Henry wriggles on the other side of the room, ignoring Charming’s words of ‘wisdom.’ He’s determined to be by his mother’s side, but his grandparents just won’t budge. So he stills, waiting for the opportune moment when his grandma loosens her grip and his grandpa looks away—he shoves his body full force into her arms and finds freedom.

 

He makes a run for Regina, but he’s so desperate that his right foot catches on the back of his left one, and he plummets to the ground, knees cracking into the hardwood floors. He ignores the pain; he ignores the stinging and the sheer certainty that he’s now bleeding too. He doesn’t care. He’s by his mom’s side, and that’s all he cares about. He tears his jacket off, sliding a hand into the one resting on her wound and moves it, swapping it for his own hand, and applies some pressure.

 

“Henry,” she scolds. “You’ll d-dirty your hands.”

 

He shakes his head in disbelief, eyes shining with tears. “Mom. Stop.”

 

Emma ignores Zelena’s appreciation and tightens her jaw. She turns, and throws herself down to the floor by Regina’s side. “Why did you do this? What were you thinking? I…” she pushes her free hand through her hair, she rests her head back and stares at the ceiling. She blinks a couple of times, tears falling from the corners of her eyes, and she bites, “why? Tell me why. You could’ve… you’re strong enough…”

 

“I—I…” Regina tries to speak, tries to free their minds in any way possible but she _can’t_. Her voice trembles and stops short of any content whatsoever. She squints, eyes unfocused and forces herself not to close her eyes just yet.

 

“You’ll be alright.” It’s more of a command than a way to calm her down. (It’s also a way for Emma to tell herself that everything will be alright, because she honestly has no fucking clue whether it will be.) “Belle’s on the phone to 911. The ambulance should be here in a minute. I’m here, Henry’s here… we’re all here, Regina. I promise you’ll be okay.”

 

Henry’s eyes lock with Emma’s, filled with fear of the unknown, but she can still see some determination in them—even if it is only a little. Henry has faith. She should have faith, but for some reason, this feels like the end.

 

Regina swallows a lump in her throat, “I… was supposed to help Grace. Jefferson’s…” she groans in pain, breath quickening slightly. “Daughter. She… she’s sick. I promised.”

 

“No.” Emma shakes her head, “stop thinking about everyone else. You… you just _stabbed_ yourself, Regina. This is… this is more important, God damn it.”

 

Henry squeezes Regina’s hand lightly, “you’ll still be able to help her, mom. You’re going to get through this, ‘cause… the ambulance’s on its way, right, ma?”

 

Emma mumbles a quick “right,” and turns to Belle. “They coming?” The strain in her voice is apparent. She makes sure Henry has pressure on Regina’s wound and she stands up just as Belle shakes her head.

 

“They said the ambulance is already out on another call… but that it’ll be here right after it drops off the other patient.” She bites her lip, “I’m sorry, Emma.”

 

“Fuck’s sake.” She murmurs. Her eyes dart around the room, looking for something to rest her eyes on. She has to get Regina out of here and to the hospital immediately, or else she won’t have much of a chance of survival.

 

“Emma.” Regina says plainly, “come here.”

 

That’s what she does. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

 

“Okay.” She nods her head, “but… but let m-me say this first. I…” she closes her eyes for a moment, swallows, and then reopens them. Regina smiles softly, and licks her lips, “there’s something I haven’t told you… something… and I didn’t want… I don’t want you to think I’m telling you this b-because I’m… because I’m dyin—…”

 

“You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

 

She whispers, “I was waiting for the right t-time. You don’t have your memories, and… that’s… I just wanted it to be… us again.”

 

Emma reaches out, pushing a stray piece of hair from her forehead. “I remember.” She smiles softly, “I remember everything. You… you must’ve shocked me out of it. It just… all came flooding back. I'm home.” Regina is sweating profusely, beads of moisture amassing on her forehead, but she’s shaking as if she’s cold—no, not cold, _freezing_. “Don’t you dare leave us. You’re not going anywhere.”

 

“The…” Regina swallows, mouth dry and irritated. She flinches slightly, moving her hand on her wound, “I… I t-think the dagger was poisoned.”

 

“No.” Emma shakes her head, tearing up again. “This can’t be happening. Regina, we need to get you to the hospital, _right now_. No excuses.” She scoops Regina’s into her arms and stands up. “Mom, Dad, Belle. Bring Zelena and meet us at the hospital. I want her to see Regina survive this.”

 

Emma carries her to the car, Henry in tow, and gently lowers her onto the back seat. “Kid, I need you to sit back here to put pressure on her wound, okay?”

 

Henry doesn’t respond, he immediately moves to the other side of the car and opens the door, climbs in, lifts Regina’s head onto his lap and presses onto her wound with the cloth. He nods slightly, “you’re gonna be okay, mom. Heroes always win.”

 

“I… I’ve done some terrible things in my tim—“

 

“So what? You’ve changed.” He takes one of her hands into his, intertwining their fingers. “You’re a hero. You have been for a while now.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

 

Emma climbs into the driver’s seat, turns the engine on and speeds all the way to the hospital. She doesn’t talk the entire drive; in fact, she doesn’t even flinch, but she keeps her eyes on the passengers in the back seat at all times. She watches, and waits, for anything to happen, anything to go wrong, because she is _terrified_ that it will. She can’t have Henry losing Regina; she is his mother. Emma’s just like the crappy Dad on the side that was never there in the beginning, but now wants a look in on his kid’s life because he doesn’t shit all over the place anymore.

 

Regina stutters over her words, teeth chattering, and she breaks the eerie silence in the Bug. “Henry.” She whispers, head turning to the side slightly, in order to get a better look at her son. She muscles up all of her strength to tighten the grip on his hand. “Listen to me.”

 

He nods in obedience, bottom lip quivering in response. Emma watches silently in the rear-view mirror.

 

“I love you. I love you with all of my heart. I have neither loved a person, nor cared for a person as much as I care for you.” She squeezes his hand, and forces a smile onto her lines—though it’s genuine, she’s just exhausted.

 

“Mommy…”

 

She shakes her head, stopping him. “You are my world, and I-I… I believe you will go on to do such great things. Never let _anyone_ tell you who you are, or who you should be. Follow your heart. Only _you_ know who you really are.” She pauses to use her free hand to wipe away her tears. She laughs softly, it’s small and sympathetic and she’s not sure whether she can hold on much longer. “Y-You brought lightness into the dark corners of my mind, of my heart, of my life. You _are_ the light of my life, you always… you always have been.”

 

“I know, mom. I’m… I’m just… I’m sorry for acting like I hated you sometimes.” He grimaces slightly as his loosens his pressure on his mother’s wound, taking the cloth off it to sneak small glimpse. “I’m so glad you got to be my mom.” Henry takes a deep breath.

 

“Language,” Regina manages to breath out. She smiles softly, eyes half-lidded. “I taught y-you better.”

 

He grins sheepishly. “Sorry, ma’s a really bad influence.”

 

“Indeed,” Regina whispers. “She is, but s-she’s a keeper. Be… be good for her, alright?” Her eyes close softly, and her grip loosens on her son’s hand. “Te quiero cariño.”

 

“I love you too, mom.” His hands begin to tingle, “more than anything. I lov—… no. No. Mom? Mom!”

 

Regina doesn’t respond.

 

“Mom!” Henry shakes her gently, “mom, wake up!” His breath quickens, and he feels like he’s gasping for air. “Ma,” he whimpers. “Ma, sh—she’s… no.”

 

Emma presses her foot down on the accelerator, foot to the floor. “Kid, it’s gonna be okay. We’re near the hospital. S-She’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay,” but she can’t hide the tears falling down her cheeks and the slight whimper as her grip tightens around the steering wheel.

 

Henry cries. He cries, and splutters, and coughs; and for one moment, Emma almost thinks he may throw up. But he doesn’t. He just cries. “Mom? Mom, please! Please wake up. I love you,” and his hands tingle again. It’s a sensation he’s never felt before. It’s not as if it hurts, but it burns slightly, and he has an instant desperation to scratch his palms. He lifts one of his hands, and a bright, white light explodes from it, sparkling and gleaming in the air. His eyes widen slightly in shock, and he glances to Emma. “Ma…”

 

“What the hell?”

 

He lets go of his mom’s hand in order to examine his own, neglecting the very small rise and fall of Regina’s chest. A small whisper escapes his mouth; it’s both filled with shock and excitement: “magic…?” There’s a glimpse of glee, of life, of success in the gleam of his eyes, and he smiles; there’s a rush of power running through his veins, and he feels as if he could save the world.

 

Emma slows the car. “Whoa, kid… uh… maybe you should…”

 

“Ma, I have magic. There’s…” his attention turns to his mom. “Mom,” it’s almost breathless, a relief, a weight off his shoulders. He knows he can do this. He lifts the blood-soaked cloth from her wound, twisting his face momentarily at the injury, and swallows a mouthful of air.

 

“No,” Emma says. She brings the car to a halt, and turns to the back seat. “It… this could go wrong. I don’t… y-you can’t control it.”

 

His eyes lock with hers, determined and strong, and he shakes his head. “She… she’s already d-dead.” He wipes a tear from his cheek, straightens his back and takes a deep breath. “I can do this.”

 

Emma refrains from asking a quick “ _you sure?_ ” and instead, lets him do his thing. She watches, mesmerised, as Henry lifts his hands over Regina’s wound… and it _works_. Her body begins to heal, and the wound closes; it closes perfectly, and there’s now no indication of any damage whatsoever save the bloodstains remaining on their clothes and hands.

 

“Mom?” He shakes her again, “mom. Are you okay? Mom, I love you, please wake up.”

  
Her eyes flicker open, dry and itchy, but instead of soothing the urge to rub them, she glances from Henry to Emma, and from Emma to Henry. “I love you,” she murmurs; it’s to neither of them in particular, but both of them at the same time.

 


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, your eyes don't deceive you. I've actually managed to update within a week for the first time since like, probably around chapter 12…? For the first time in forever, I don't need to apologise for being late to update. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Warning: this chapter includes one brief mention of suicide—please do not read if you are sensitive or triggered by this!

“What do you mean he ‘healed’ her?”

 

Snow’s eyes frantically dart around the room. It’s almost as if she’s still afraid Zelena will appear in a puff of green smoke and threaten their lives again. “Henry… _healed_ her? He _healed_ her. With magic—that’s… impossible, Henry doesn’t have magic.”

 

Emma shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe he does.”

 

The lounge of 108 Mifflin Street is more crowded that it’s ever been in almost a year—in fact, it’s actually fulfilling its potential use for the first time in… _forever_. Even Emma hasn’t seen as many people in here before. There are the Charmings, Belle, Archie and Pongo, the Lucas family, Blue and the other fairies, the seven dwarfs. Practically one member of every family in Storybrooke is here, demanding to be told what happened, how, where, when and why and whether their lives are in any danger, _of course_ , because sixty per cent of people in this town only care about themselves.

 

“Hey!” Emma shouts about the ruckus, “if you’re not immediate family, get out.” Nobody moves. “I mean it. Get out. I’m sure Regina will call a town meeting once everything has settled down to explain everything to you. All you need to know right now is that everything is in order; the person who cast the curse is in custody. No one got… well, no one is _still_ hurt. So, please go.”

 

Once everyone begins to leave, she turns her attention to Regina. She’s huddled on the couch, feet up, and breathing deeply—she’s fast asleep, and Emma doesn’t blame her. She even looks exhausted in her sleep; Emma doesn’t dare wake her up, but she contemplates taking her upstairs to rest in her be—

 

“—So, Henry has magic now?” David chimes in. He sits on the opposite couch, motioning for Snow to take the spot next to him.

 

Emma stands over Regina’s fatigued body, and gently covers her with a blanket. (Henry brought it down earlier, sheepishly throwing it to Emma while mumbling “it made me feel better when I was younger.”)

 

She shrugs again, “as I said, I don’t know. Regina said something about light and dark before falling asleep. I’m not sure whether it was even about Henry. Could’ve just been…” she strokes the brunette’s hair gently, pushing strand by strand behind her ear.

 

David clears his throat, glancing to Snow. He pushes, “could’ve just been…?”

 

“Gibberish.”

 

“Ah.”

 

Snow squints slightly, sitting forward in her seat. “You seem different. You’re different. It’s as if,” her eyes widen. “You remember.”

 

“Yeah,” Emma mumbles, unimpressed. She perches on the end of the couch where Regina’s feet are, and gently rests a hand on one of the woman’s calves. “I remember. I got my memory back somehow.”

 

Absentmindedly, she begins to draw small circles on Regina’s calf, getting lost in her thoughts as she replays the situation of the suicide, over and over, and then Henry healing her, over and over. Though she has the utmost faith in Henry’s abilities, she isn’t entirely convinced that Regina is completely alright. He’s a _kid_ , a kid who’s never showed any signs of possessing magic in his entire life—well, she supposes. She can definitely speak for the past three years.

 

As far as she knows, he doesn’t know _anything_ about magic.

 

What if Regina has internal bleeding? What if he didn’t heal the inside, only the abrasion on the outside? These thoughts flicker in and out of her mind almost every five minutes, because she is still terrified of losing Regina.

 

“And you didn’t tell us?”

 

Emma jumps slightly, being pulled from her reverie. “Huh?”

 

Snow is clasping onto David’s hand for dear life, “why didn’t you tell us?”

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Emma lifts her hand in the air to reflect her confusion, “it happened like, an hour ago.”

 

“Your mother and I just think,” David starts. He squeezes Snow’s hand gently, and forces a small smile. “That you’ve been distant lately.”

 

Emma frowns slightly, “uh. Mom, Dad, I didn’t know who you were.”

 

“We mean before that, Emma. We…” Snow sighs. “We don’t feel like your parents.”

 

David cuts in, “and we know that’s probably because we’re near in age, and… that we didn’t get to raise you. We feel like we don’t know you, that you won’t let us get to know you. We’d just like… more incite into your life. If you’d let us, of course. We don’t want to push you into something you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

 

“Okay,” Emma nods slightly. She can’t say she’s missed her parents, she can’t say she ever thought about them, because she didn’t know who they were. She didn’t even know they existed until an hour ago, and even though her memories are back, they’re right—she still feels a little distant, she always has done. “How do you want me to do that?”

 

“Just… tell us things, about your life… I mean, you…” Snow clears her throat, looking to David for support.

 

He continues for her, “Anna. You were with Anna. We didn’t know… you liked… well,” David clears his throat. His voice is quiet, and his cheeks flush slightly, “women.”

 

“Oh. Oh, right.” Emma chews her lip, “is that a problem? I mean, did you have gay people back in the Enchanted Forest?”

 

Snow tightens her grip on David’s hand. “There were… rumours of women marrying women and men marrying men. There were when I was little, anyway.” She frowns slightly, directing her gaze towards her former stepmother, “Regina told me about them.”

 

 _Makes sense_ , Emma wants to say, but she holds back. “Awesome,” is all that comes out of her mouth. She wriggles in her seat slightly, removing her hand from Regina’s leg to pick at her nails.

 

“So, you like girls?” David asks.

 

“I like girls.”

 

They both nod, and silence swells into the room like a bad smell. Emma focuses her attention on Regina, checking that her chest is rising and falling, that her pulse is at a normal level, that she’s warm enough. She doesn’t know whether she should maybe heat some soup up for her when she wakes up—though she kinda thinks that would be really weird and hospital-like to wake up to someone pushing a bowl of soup into your face and down your throat.

 

“What about Graham?” David sits forward, and Snow stands up to go and make them some drinks in the kitchen.

 

Emma shrugs. “What about him?”

 

“Weren’t you two… dating? I thought…” he glances to Regina, “you two fought over him.”

 

“Oh.” She laughs, sitting forward too. She rests her elbows on her thighs and rests her chin in her hands. “Nah, nothing romantic there. Graham knew I was a lesbian. We were into the same kind of women.”

 

David nods. “So, are you… uh, ‘into’ anyone in Storybrooke?”

 

Emma raises an eyebrow. She doesn’t understand how it can’t be completely obvious. She just made a blatant joke about she and Graham being completely into Regina—which clearly flew straight over her Dad’s head.

 

“Yep.”

 

“Who?”

 

Snow enters the room with a tray of drinks, “Regina.”

 

Both Charmings look to her. David is confused and shocked to say the least, while Emma’s just incredulous that Snow has even been paying that much attention.

 

“It’s obvious,” she rests the tray on the coffee table, takes a glass and sits back down in her spot. A smile spreads across her face, “you two are head over heels for each other. Besides, I once asked Regina if she loved you, and she gave me that ‘no I’m not’ attitude. But I saw it in her eyes. It’s how she used to look at Daniel.”

 

(But Emma stopped listening when Snow said she saw it in Regina’s eyes. It reminds her of the moment she first told Regina she loved her, and she said it back:

 

“I love you.”

 

“What?”

 

“Say it back.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because,” Emma shrugged. “I know you love me. I wanna hear you say it.”

 

“Maybe I do love you.”

 

“You do.”

 

“It’s possible.”

 

“Come on, Regina.”

 

“I hate you too.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

Regina feigned annoyance, leaned forward and whispered, “te amo, mi amor.”

 

“I love it when you speak Spanish. It’s hot.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around Regina’s waist, “you feel like home to me.”

 

“I do?”

 

“Mhm. How do I say that in Spanish?"

 

Regina pauses for a moment, "I don't think there's a literal translation. Something like 'contigo me siento como en casa' would work."

 

"Conti… contagion me sent como en casa, Regina."

 

"Almost," Regina smiled.

 

They kissed then, passionately and fervently, but Regina pulled away just as it was heating up. “Hey.”

 

“We’re just about to begin a town meeting, Emma. Would you like everyone to see you naked and spread across this table?”

 

“Mm…” she smirks. “Maybe.”

 

Regina rolled her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.” There was a small pause, “who would’ve thought the Saviour and Evil Queen would ever fall in love?”

 

“Why wouldn’t they? The Saviour and the Evil Queen, the White Knight and the lost Princess, Snow White’s daughter and Snow White’s stepmother. It’s the best unintentional love story there’s ever been. People would be dumb to not develop this plotline in a television show. It’s T.V. gold.”

 

“This is real life, Emma. No television involved.”)

 

…

 

On the other side of Storybrooke, Henry cracks his knuckles; he chews so hard on his lip that blood starts to pour into his mouth, and his face twists at the metallic taste. He dances slightly from foot to foot, staring at the metal door in front of him, and he glances side to side before resting his hand on the handle.

 

“Well, well, well.” Henry jumps, scattering to press his back against the opposite wall. “Look who decided to pay a visit. Aren’t you coming in?”

 

“Yeah.” He puffs out his chest, “I’m coming in.”

 

The door squeaks as it opens, and Henry’s eyes immediately linger on the chains Zelena is wrapped up in—she’s not only restrained by her hands, but by her feet and her waist. She’s a prisoner, and Henry can’t help but feel a tiny twinge of guilt, of sadness, of _sympathy_ even, for her in his stomach.

 

“Why did you want my mom to die?”

 

She clears her throat, gravelly from not speaking for so long, “starting with the hard-hitting questions, I see. No hello. No how are you. Bad manners, really.”

 

“Shut up.” His teeth are gritted, and he’s trying so hard to play the hero, to be strong like his moms. “Why did you thank Emma when she pulled that amulet from your neck?”

 

There’s a moment of silence, where all Zelena does is watch him. She watches as his eyes fill up with tears, as he begins to shake, as he takes a step back to lean on the wall behind him. “I’m sorry.”

 

But he isn’t impressed, “that’s _not_ what I asked.”

 

“I…” Zelena tries to move, but the chains restrict her. Her eyes close for a brief moment as she takes a deep breath and composes herself. “I thanked your mother for taking the amulet because she freed me.”

 

Henry frowns, “what?”

 

“It’s a long story, dear. I’m sure you aren’t interested in hearing the ins and outs of my life.”

 

“I am,” he says. Though he stays rested against the opposite wall, as far as possible away from Zelena, he sees some humanity in her—something he hasn’t seen before. “And I have time.”

 

Zelena lifts her head in approval, “do your mothers know you’re here?”

 

“What do you think?”

 

She raises her eyebrows slightly. “Alright.” She bites her lip, pausing slightly to mull over where to begin. “Magic. For many people, it’s… it’s a good thing. It’s light; it’s something they use for _good_ —I used to be good.” She wets her lips, turning to look at the wall to her right. “That is, until I found out I had a sister. Jealousy took over me. However, I did not act on that jealousy until a dear friend of mine, Glinda, gave me the amulet. I was… supposedly _destined_ to be a member, along with Glinda and two other women, all wielders of magic to protect our respective parts of the land.”

 

“Oz.” Henry says, “your section was the West, and Glinda’s was the North.”

 

She nods, “smart boy.”

 

“But what does this have to do with—”

 

A genuine spreads across her lips, “I’m getting there, Henry. Be patient.” Once he nods in confirmation, she continues. “I wasn’t aware at the time that the amulet had great powers of its own. We were— _apparently_ —born to protect and preserve the land for the future generations, that was our sole purpose in life; the amulets were created to trap us in Oz until our deaths.” She looks down to the floor, “but there was a catch. If the magic we wielded wasn’t used for the goodness of the land, it changed us. It trapped us further, and that’s when I became physically green. The jealousy inside me was amplified by the power of the amulet.”

 

“You broke the rules…” he bites his lip.

 

“I broke the rules,” she nods slightly. “I was powerful enough on my own to leave Oz. I travelled to the Enchanted Forest. I watched my sister again. I saw how… how her life had turned out compared to mine. She was so lucky; I was trapped, and… and she was free. So…” she swallows, “I… I dedicated my life to… to taking her life, and every time she would prevail.”

 

He believes her. Henry takes a step towards her, feeling safe enough to sit on the slab of concrete next to her. He turns to her, and looks at her in a way that Zelena hasn’t seen for such a long time; he observes her, neither afraid, nor disgusted, but sympathetic, willing to listen… to _understand_.

 

“The amulet… it… I wasn’t able to remove it, becau—”

 

“—The darkness wouldn’t let you.”

 

“Precisely,” she reaches to rest a hand on his, but again, the chains stop her and she sighs very softly. “I cannot use the amulet as an excuse because I was jealous in the first place. I was the one who changed, not the amulet—the amulet reacted to my bad decisions. It made me the Wicked Witch of the West. Before the amulet, I was just… Zelena.”

 

Henry reaches out to hold her hand, “you don’t have the amulet now. You don’t have magic anymore, you can be Zelena.”

 

“I have done some very bad things,” she smiles sadly, but chooses to focus on the warm touch of Henry’s hand. “I doubt that would be an option for me.”

 

“So has my mom.” He squints slightly, thinking. “You know you and my mom have a lot in common?”

 

She frowns in response, “what do you mean?”

 

“She was trapped.” He chews the inside of his lip, “I don’t know much. But she was forced to marry a man she didn’t love… my great Grandfather. She was trapped in a life she didn’t want, because her mom made her—your mom too, I guess. She turned evil because of it. I…” Henry takes a deep breath, squeezing Zelena’s hand. “I think you two have a lot more in common than you think you do. You should… talk to her.”

 

“I think she tried to tell me that. I didn’t listen. I was blinded by hate and envy.”

 

“But you’re not now?”

 

Zelena begins tears up. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “I’m jealous, but… I suppose I don’t know everything. I don’t… I’m not fuelled by magic or… or the amulet anymore. I…” she sighs, turning to him. “I am sorry for trying to take your mother away from you.”

 

“It’s okay,” he shrugs slightly. “You have no idea what we’ve been through the past three years. This is kinda… standard.”

 

She nods again. Her eyes wander around the room, averting his, looking for something—anything—to stare at. She doesn’t want to cry; crying is weak, and lowly and something she hasn’t done for quite a while now. But it’s all pent up inside, and she feels like she’s about to burst.

 

“Hey,” he nudges her playfully, grinning. “We give second chances?”

 

She laughs, a single tear rolling down her cheek. “What about fourth or fifth chances?”

 

“Sure, Aunt Z.” He looks to the chains, “so… how about we try and get you out of these things?”

 

“That would be wicked.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think about the spin I put on Zelena's story? I was so excited to share this idea with you all, I've been planning that for quite a while now. Anyway, thank you so much for reading—please leave a comment and let me know what you think of this chapter. All your views, kudos and comments help me to continue writing.
> 
> (p.s. the Spanish for 'you feel like home' was given to me through my friend Lara, who spoke to her Spanish friend. If this is incorrect, I apologise! Let me know if you can think of a better/more appropriate translation.)


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